Do What You Have to Do
by TempleMistress
Summary: On Naboo, a seriously injured Anakin and a guiltridden ObiWan deal with the aftermath of their first duel with Dooku. The road to recovery leads to the discovery of a bond far deeper than that of a typical Master and Padawan. AU. Slash in future chaps.
1. Do What You Have to Do

**Disclaimer**: Standard one--I own nothing but my fantasies! Special mention to GL and all associated authors in the SW universe, particularly R.A. Salvatore--you own it all!

**Author's Notes**: A new fic! I've always been bothered by the lack of story given to the immediate post-Geonosis period, particularly the fallout of Anakin losing his arm, and how that might have affected him, Obi-Wan, and their relationship. Anakin just shows up in the Clone Wars novels fully integrated with his arm, seeming to have no issues whatsoever. And more curious, Obi-Wan never seems to mention it at all. But what happened in between?

Since this is AU, I have taken some liberties, most notably, that Anakin and Padme are just close friends, like siblings, and she has been his confidant for years. The rating is for slash in future chapters.

As another wonderfully slashy Obi-Wan/Anakin author, Alchemy Dream, says, reviews are love. Let me know if this strikes a chord with you--it will be much appreciated!

And may I never forget to thank my muse and awesomely talented beta, **XtinethePirate**. Verb tenses be thrice-damned and Sith-cursed! Much love to you for all your hard work and patience!

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**Do What You Have to Do**

**  
Chapter 1: Do What You Have to Do**

_**I'm ever swiftly moving trying to escape this desire, the yearning to be near you,  
I do what I have to do…**_

--Sarah McLachlan, _Do What You Have to Do_

It had been two weeks, two endless weeks of darkness, and still he had not awakened. A week had been spent in bacta, healing the myriad of cuts, scrapes, and bruises that had littered his once strong, tanned body and youthful, handsome face. Removed from the bacta, it was hoped he would recover quickly, but the severity of his injuries proved to be well-beyond the capabilities of the Nubian healers; he would need a Jedi Healer now. His body already in shock, the Sith lightning had easily overloaded his delicate connection to the Force, effectively barring his return to consciousness.

Anakin Skywalker was in a Force-induced coma.

The Jedi Council had received the urgent message from Senator Amidala on Naboo—Anakin was no longer responding to the treatments, and she was needed back at the Senate for an important vote. The Council had told her they would send Healer Luminara Unduli to care for Anakin in her stead. What Padme did not know was that Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin's Master, would accompany Master Unduli. If Padme had known, she would never have planned to return to Coruscant.

* * *

_Her fury that day on Geonosis had been palpable; it roared as much through the dank hangar as it did through the Force, directed solely at one man._

_"What the blazes were you thinking, Obi-Wan? He is your Padawan! Your friend! You brought him in there to face a Sith Lord? How could you let this happen to him?" she shrieked, as they both watched Anakin being carried away on a stretcher, tubes and bacta patches adorning the length of his damaged body._

_She stabbed a hard finger into his chest, glaring with all of her regal might. "I told you, I _told _you to get some help!"_

_"__Padme, I—" He faltered, the words thick on his tongue, his thoughts cloudy. What _had _happened?_

_"__No! Don't even try! He was your__ responsibility, Obi-Wan. He looks up to you, he admires you! He believes everything you tell him he is, good or bad!"_

_"__Padme, please. He—Anakin—he ran in before I could—I tried to—but I couldn't—" He closed his eyes, remembering now. Yes…He swayed a bit, his thigh burning and unsteady. Slowly, he opened his eyes, only to find Padme's accusing stare that bore into him. _

_"__Don't you _dare_ blame __this on him! You told him the two of you could handle this! You know how he is, Obi-Wan! You know he wanted to prove himself to you, to show you he is worthy of that damn prophecy!" She moved closer, so that he had no choice but to look her in the eyes._ _"Do you have any idea how hard it has been for him to be the 'Chosen One'? To live up to that expectation? To be _your _Padawan? This is _your_fault, Obi-Wan!" _

_Her hands were shaking as tears ran down her cheeks._

_"Padme, I never thought—" He never thought Anakin could lose to Dooku. He had always believed that when Anakin's time came, he would pass whatever trial the Force put before him. He had thought his training of Anakin would be good enough. He had been wrong. So wrong._

_Obi-Wan tried to focus on Padme, but her voice was simultaneously exploding in his head as it moved farther away. Why did his shoulder feel like a thousand suns were going supernova in it?_

_She backed up, giving him a critical look, her voice dripping with disgust. "No, you never have, have you? Never thought about what it is like to be him. To leave his mother behind in slavery, just to be one of you Jedi! Just to be with _you _Obi-Wan."_

_"I don't know what you want me to say, Padme. I did not think this would happen, could happen. I'm sor-sorry." He could not stand the fires of judgment in her eyes, it was too much for him now. She was right; it was all his fault. He might as well have removed Anakin's arm himself, for all of the help he had been._

_Obi-Wan hung his head down, physically and emotionally beaten. He blinked a few times as his vision blurred._

_"__You're _sorry_? Tell that to Ani when he wakes up and finds he's lost his arm! When he counts the scars! When he realizes he will never be the same! When he cries, believing he's failed you, just like he thinks he failed his mother!"_

_"I will take full respon—" Of course he would. He would do what he had to do, he always did. _

_"__No. You will do _nothing_of the sort." Her voice dropped an octave and became as icy as a Hothan gale. "You will not go near him. I've spoken to Master Yoda, and I'm taking Anakin to Naboo to heal. He loves the lake country, and he'll be away from this war, away from the Jedi, but most of all, away from _you. I _will take care of him now, Obi-Wan. You needn't be troubled by the Padawan you never wanted."_

_The words stung more than any of Dooku's vicious taunts. "Never wanted? That is not true. You _cannot _believe that, Padme. I would have no other Padawan than Anakin!" His voice wavered under the assault, as tears he did not quite understand pricked the corners of his eyes._

_"Save your version of the truth for someone else, Obi-Wan. I was there. I remember. I know how cold you were to him—he was just a boy, and he was so alone. Don't pretend that you wanted him—don't insult him and don't insult me with your lies." She turned toward the transport that carried Anakin. "Stay away, Obi-Wan. He does not need you. Just stay away."_

_The toll of the battle, Padme's words, and the red, throbbing sabre wounds to his shoulder and thigh all coalesced into a sweet, merciful, blackness, as Obi-Wan slumped to the hangar deck._

* * *

His hands went to his eyes, trying to rub away the painful memory, sighing as he crossed his arms, hugging his cloak closer. Obi-Wan was not looking forward to seeing Padme again. He could only hope that she would now understand why he had to be with Anakin. Anakin was his Padawan, his responsibility. If not for his own serious injuries, Obi-Wan would _never_ have left Anakin's bedside. It had taken all of his considerable negotiation skills to persuade Luminara to release him from the Healer's Ward to make this journey. Force, he _needed_ to be with Anakin, and he knew Anakin needed him—the gnawing absence, the void in their bond, told him as much. 

The light cruiser sped through the darkness of space, on its way to Naboo. The Force was cruel that way, bringing the past into the present to make the future. Naboo was where it had all begun, where Obi-Wan Kenobi's life had become inextricably entwined with Anakin Skywalker's. Where his Master Qui-Gon had died, and he, Obi-Wan, had become Anakin's Master. Where Padawan Kenobi had faced a Sith Lord and _won_.

Obi-Wan held his head in his hands, the ability to forget frustratingly elusive. How had it all gone so wrong? _My arrogance! We both nearly died, and Anakin…oh Anakin! What a price you have paid, because of my failings!_

He had yelled at Padme so confidently when she wanted them to get some help. His words ran through his head in an endless loop, maliciously mocking him.

"_No, there's no time! Anakin and I can handle this!"_

Only he and Anakin had not handled it at all. It had handled them, with disastrous results. How could he have been so overconfident and so naïve?

They were chasing a _Sith Lord_. While Anakin was still a Padawan, he was no ordinary Jedi. He was a cunning warrior, with his skills, his command of the Force and his swordsmanship already legendary. Certainly the Sith Killer and the Chosen One would make quick work of Dooku and end the war before it really started.

Oh, the hubris.

_He hadn't expected that Dooku, an ex-Jedi, would be as adept in the dark arts as he was in the Jedi way. He hadn't expected Dooku's mere _words_ to seep into the deepest corners of fear in Obi-Wan's mind and shred his confidence. He hadn't expected that an old man with such an air of gentility could gather so much dark energy and malice around him and focus it into his murderous, merciless blade. _

_He should have known better._

_The lapses in his training of Anakin had never been so evident as they were in that crucible of Geonosis. Anakin rushed in to fight, ready to avenge the deaths of so many friends, and let his emotions take control of him. All Obi-Wan had time to say was _"No Anakin, no!" _ With an indifferent shrug, Dooku seized Anakin with a shock of blue Force-lightning that hurled him into a rock wall, leaving Anakin's clothes smoking from the contact._

_With all the confidence of the only living Jedi to have slain a Sith Lord, Obi-Wan deliberately and aggressively attacked Dooku, only to be repeatedly beaten back. The verbal taunts were at first easy to ignore, but then began to eat away into his soul, distracting him when he most needed his concentration. The sabre attacks came harder, faster, until in a feint, Dooku cut into both Obi-Wan's shoulder and thigh, dropping him to the floor._

_Just as Dooku's crimson blade started to crash down in its death blow, a vivid emerald blade suddenly appeared just above Obi-Wan's face, blocking its descent. "I'm a slow learner," he heard his Padawan boast sarcastically. In a move they had never practiced, Obi-Wan tossed his blade to Anakin, who led Dooku away from Obi-Wan, spinning and whirling the green and blue blades in a brilliant display of sabre techniques. But soon Anakin was struggling with these new maneuvers, barely utilizing the second blade. It was an unnecessary distraction that wasted Anakin's already depleted energy. Obi-Wan could sense his Padawan's confidence slipping, could see it as the left blade dipped. Dooku pounced and knocked it from his hand. _

_Obi-Wan was too weak to move, too clouded by pain to gather the Force to him to do anything—Force-throw objects at Dooku, disable the ship, or even call for help. He was helpless, and he could feel, could see, that Anakin desperately needed his help._

_Anakin was visibly weakening, stumbling through his footwork, slicing haphazardly through the air. He cut through the air with a backhanded swing, arcing up too slowly, missing the Sith's blade completely, when Dooku quickly reversed, slicing through leather, flesh, and bone. With a Force-shove, Anakin came flying back to slam into Obi-Wan's prone form, already unconscious from the shock._

_Obi-Wan did not remember much after that, until he heard Padme's cry and saw the arrival of several Jedi and clone troopers. Only then did he look down to see what had become of his Padawan. Anakin was bruised, bloodied, his robes blackened with soot, a cauterized stump where his right forearm once was. _

The memory still sickened his stomach.

_Oh Anakin, I'm so sorry. _He stifled a choked sob as he pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, trying to stem the flow of emotion that begged for release.

He felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Obi-Wan. Are you alright? Is there anything I can do for you?"

He pressed his eyes once more, willing the Force to help calm him, then looked up into the face of Luminara Unduli, a long time friend.

"Ahh, Luminara. No, thank you, I'm fine," he said with a half-hearted smile, then turned to look out at the stars streaking by.

"I brought you some tea; I thought you might like some to help you relax." She handed him a steaming cup, which he accepted with a perfunctory smile, then set it on the table, untouched.

She frowned slightly as she sat down at the table. "Obi-Wan, I know it is not in your nature to acknowledge your pain, but you must be mindful of your own wounds. They are still healing and will require further treatment—do not neglect yourself on Anakin's behalf. An infection could seriously compromise your ability to handle a sabre effectively again. Do you understand?"

_Maybe that would be fair. After all, I've seriously compromised Anakin's ability to effectively handle a lightsabre. Ever again._

"Yes, Luminara. Regular cleansing, bacta patches. I understand completely," he answered absently.

She touched his sleeve in an attempt to get his attention. "I need you to understand, Obi-Wan, that I will do all that I can to help Anakin come back. I've spoken with the healers on Naboo and understand the extent of his physical injuries. Anakin is still unconscious because the Sith-lightning has, in a sense, blinded him within the Force. He is lost, and he will need help getting back. You are very worried for him," she said, looking at his stoic expression carefully.

"Yes, of course. He is my Padawan," he replied, trying without much success to sound detached, like the Master he _should _be, not the quivering youngling he _felt_ like.

Luminara gently took one of his hands, lightly stroking the palm. "Obi-Wan, you need not be brave for me. I have known you for a long time and know the burden you carry in your heart." She tilted her head, a soft smile on her face. "It is difficult for any Master to feel he has failed his Padawan."

He turned to listen, relaxing in the softness of her touch, the gentleness of her voice.

"It is harder when his Padawan is injured." She squeezed his hand, leaning forward a little, her wide-set blue eyes searching his. "But I suspect it is agony when you have love in your heart for him," she said quietly.

Obi-Wan startled, pulling his hand away from his old friend. "I don't know what you are referring to, Luminara. Anakin is my Padawan, it is my responsibility to care for him, yes. But Jedi do not form attachments."

She sighed. "My friend, I know the Code. But I know _you_, too. You forget, I was your Healer when you returned from Geonosis. You had collapsed in that hangar and became delirious from the pain and shock. You probably do not recall this, but you cried out for Anakin while I treated your wounds, asking him to forgive you."

His eyes widened in shock and then closed in shame at his lack of control, his inability to focus his mind against the pain that day. _I should have been stronger._

"Obi-Wan, I do not judge you for the bond you have with Anakin. The Jedi way is not an easy path and can be isolating; it is the natural state of beings to crave love and companionship. Does he know how you feel?"

Obi-Wan avoided her gaze. Surely she was mistaken. _Anakin is my Padawan. Jedi do not form attachments. I am his Master. That is all there is to it._

He turned back to Luminara and gave her a sad smile. "There is nothing for him to know. I am his Master, he is my Padawan, and I failed him, Luminara. That is all the truth there is. Because of my arrogance, he still lies there, eyes unopened. I can feel through the Force that he needs me, but I don't know what to do. Tell me, what can I do?" he begged her, desperate for an answer.

The sensor went off alerting them to their impending arrival at Naboo. Luminara stood up and placed a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "You will know, Obi-Wan. When it is time, you will know."

As the cruiser approached Theed, Obi-Wan looked away, willing the memories to stay buried. He thought he would never have to come back here, would never have to see this Sith-cursed capital of Naboo where he'd had to watch his Master die. _Qui-Gon, how I wish you were still here. You would never have failed Anakin as I have._

The cruiser left Theed behind as it sped over green rolling hills and lush open plains, following a wide meandering river. The mouth of the river opened into a giant pool of impossibly calm water that reflected the intense azure color of the sky and the surrounding white-tipped mountains. Obi-Wan had never been to the lake country of Naboo, but he immediately recognized why Padme had brought Anakin here. _Of course he would love this. It is the complete antithesis of Tatooine: soft, blue, fertile and wet._

Coordinates locked in, the cruiser's speed slowed as a large country estate came into view, tucked between two mountains and perched on the edge of the lake. Obi-Wan's heart skipped a beat when he first felt it.

_Anakin…_

He could feel the Force-signature of his Padawan through the bond that connected their minds, and he let out a deep breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. His eyes closed as he savored the contact he had missed so much over the last two weeks.

_(Anakin, I'm here.)_


	2. Memories Seep From My Veins

Disclaimer: The usual--GL & Co. own everything, I'm just here playing!

**Author's Note:** If you are wondering about Master Luminara Unduli, she's a character that I first encountered in _The Approaching Storm_. I loved her character and how she was able to relate so well to both Obi-Wan and Anakin, and she seemed to be able to see into Anakin, and he respected her. Given Obi-Wan's aversion to healers, I wanted someone who he would be comfortable with, and someone Anakin would listen to. Technically, Luminara's Padawan, Barriss Offee, is a healer, but I wanted someone Obi-Wan would consider an equal, so I made Luminara a healer.

**Liana-chan:** Thank you! I love sabre battles, you know! Yeah, Padme is pretty mad, but her little "brother" just lost his arm and could have died! But it was fun to write, too!

**loke:** I KNOW! I'm kinda dreading the release of ROTS because I'm in such denial that they will hurt each other so much. I'm not fond of evil, Sithly Anakin that is mean and hurts everyone around him. This will be much better!

**Monchy**: Holy Crap! _You_ read and reviewed my stories! As a HUGE fan of yours, I'm so very honoured! I did a happy dance just for that, but then you were so kind, too. Yes, when I write, I do "see" it in my head, and that's how it spins out. I'm so glad that others see it the way I do--I must be doing it right. Yes, please keep reading!

**Phoenix Red Lion:** Force, did you make me laugh! That is exactly the reaction I was going for--I wanted her to be so angry that she was unfair and ruthless. But I think, deep down, she knows that they actually love each other. We'll see...

**Alchemy Dream:** Lovely and appreciated as always! If you thought he was stuck on rewind before...

**Vee017:** Glad you like it, and yes, Padme was pretty brutal. But remember, she's been his confidant for many years, and we all know Anakin can be a bit of a whiner, a trait he unfortunately passed on to his son... Perhaps she is not a reliable narrator, though.

**XtinethePirate:** big giant hug Thanks for all your patience on this chapter. I couldn't do this without you! Your love of ObiAngst seems to be rubbing off on me...but I still believe in happy endings, never fear. May this still bring you some sniffles. Love you!

* * *

**Chapter 2: Memories Seep from my Veins**

"**_You spend all your time waiting for that second chance, for a break that would make it okay. There's always some reason to feel not good enough…"_**

--S. McLachlan, _Angel_

The cruiser slowly came to rest, its ramp descending to meet the durasteel deck of the small hanger on the country estate. A warm, aromatic breeze blew into the cabin, fluttering their long Jedi robes behind them. With Luminara's assistance, Obi-Wan hobbled down the ramp, each step a small agony for the still-tender wound in his thigh. _Tap, step, step. Tap, step, step._ How he hated the utter indignity of having to use a cane.

_I feel as old as Master Yoda with this Sith-cursed thing! Anakin would tease.._.he corrected himself_…Anakin will tease me mercilessly when he sees this._

He paused at the bottom of the ramp, drawing in a deep breath as he waited for the throbbing to subside. It was a beautiful day on Naboo, filled with warm summer sunshine and white puffy clouds, but even that did not diminish the storm he sensed approaching.

He felt her before he saw her. There was no mistaking the anger that cast tumultuous ripples in the Force. Inwardly, he braced himself, as he reluctantly looked up to see Padme standing in the doorway of the hangar. She was attired in her regal Senate robes, with her hair swept up in one of her gravity-defying signature coiffures. With her arms crossed defiantly, eyes blazing, it was easy to understand why she was an effective politician—she exuded intimidation without even saying a word.

"Just what the _Sith hell _are you doing here, Obi-Wan? I thought I made myself perfectly clear on Geonosis when I told you to stay away."

_Nothing has changed, then._ Obi-Wan's shoulders sagged in despair as Padme's anger and resentment rushed over him like a solar flare. He gathered his strength and began the arduous journey over to the Senator. _Tap, step, step. Tap, step, step._

Luminara moved between them, lightly laying her hand on Padme's ornately embroidered sleeve. "Senator Amidala, please. I know how much you care about Padawan Skywalker; we all do, that is why we are here."

Padme stiffened at her touch, offering her an icy, yet polite, smile. "Master Unduli, while I am grateful that the Council has sent their most gifted Healer for Anakin, I was under the impression that you would be coming alone." She flicked a disapproving look toward Obi-Wan. "I am not sure you are aware of all of the…circumstances… surrounding Anakin's injuries. _Master Kenobi_," she said, voice dripping with disdain, "should have informed you that he is not welcome here."

Obi-Wan inhaled sharply, trying to still the anger he felt rising from his core at her utter _dismissal _of him, as though he were not even there.

With a soothing tone, Luminara sought to dispel Padme's anger. "Senator, I assure you, I've been in contact with your healers here on Naboo, and have been briefed on Anakin's condition. I understand he initially responded well to the bacta, but is still unconscious?"

A frown of worry flitted across Padme's face, her anger momentarily diverted. "Yes, unfortunately. Master Unduli, do you really think you will be able to help Ani? I'm so worried about him—he seems so weak, and his wounds…his arm…," Padme trailed off, with more vulnerability than Obi-Wan had ever heard her express. Underneath the hostile regal Senator was a scared young woman—she actually seemed her true age, for once.

Luminara nodded her head. "I will need to see Anakin in order to determine a course of treatment before I can give you any kind of prognosis. May I see him now? I think it would be best for all involved if I got started immediately." Luminara's eyes darted from Padme to Obi-Wan.

"Of course." Padme gestured to a nearby servant. "Please escort Healer Unduli to Anakin's chambers. Thank you." She turned to Luminara. "Master Unduli, I will be leaving for Coruscant before nightfall, but would appreciate it if we could speak again before my departure," she said, returning to full Senatorial mode.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. _Politicians!_ His distaste for politicians had always been a point of contention between him and his Padawan. Anakin insisted that Padme was somehow different, a special case. _They're all cut from the same cloth. She's no different, trading on her status and power to get what she wants—in this case, keeping me from Anakin._

Eyeing Obi-Wan, she continued, "Master Kenobi and I have some unfinished business to discuss before _our_ return to Coruscant. If you'll excuse us," she said, and before Luminara could reply, Padme forcefully grabbed Obi-Wan's arm and dragged him, limping, out of the hangar to small garden with an elaborate fountain.

He winced as her fingers twisted muscle that had yet to fully heal, his leg struggling to submit to the sudden change in speed.

"Sit down," she commanded, in a voice that brokered no argument.

He pulled his arm away. "Padme, please, my arm…"

"At least you have an _arm _to complain about, Obi-Wan. _Sit down_," she sneered derisively.

He complied, but only because he thought his leg was about to give out on him, throbbing as it was from the exertion. He blew a breath out of his pursed lips in an attempt to let his anger and his pain flow into the Force.

With as much confidence as he could muster, between his pain and her intimidation, he looked her in the eye. "Padme, I am _not_ returning to Coruscant with you. My place is here with my Padawan. I've been gone long enough as it is."

She snorted. "Oh, because you were ever _there _in the first place? No wonder Ani complains that you never listen to him! Do you ever listen to anyone, even yourself? I told you, Anakin doesn't need you. He has me, and now he has a Healer here to bring him back. Your presence is not required, Obi-Wan." She stood up and moved away a few steps, her back to him, as she focused on the trickling of the fountain.

The accusation hurt. _Because I know it is true, I don't listen. If I had, maybe…But it doesn't change anything right now._

"Padme, I know you do not want to hear this, but Anakin does need me. I could feel it through our bond, even on Coruscant."

"You two and your damn _bond._ It almost got you both killed," she muttered, shaking her head. "I'm so tired of the two of you using it to justify doing whatever it is you want to do, regardless of the consequences or how much it hurts each of you!"

"What would you have me say, Padme? What do you want me to do? Do you want me to just tell you that I don't care for him and just walk away, just abandon him when he risked _everything _to save me?" His voice rose and started to shake with pent-up emotion. "I cannot do that to him; I _will not_ do that to him! My place as his Master is at his side, to help him heal and move forward in his training once he begins his recovery. I cannot do that from Coruscant, Padme."

She whirled around, waving an angry hand in the air. "I will speak with Master Yoda—."

"Padme, the Council agrees that my place is here; why else would they have allowed me to travel?"

_As if they could have stopped me from coming…_

"I am not leaving you here with him. He doesn't need you," came the stubborn response.

Quietly, "Yes he does. Let go of your anger, Padme. You know it as well as I do."

She turned away from him again, her stately robes swishing around her legs, her hands clenching and unclenching in frustration.

They stayed there, neither saying a word, for what seemed like an eternity, the only sound that of the splash of the fountain.

Both were startled when Luminara appeared. With considerable effort, Obi-Wan stood up. He tried to read her expression, her emotions within the Force, but was unsuccessful.

"Luminara, did you see him? How is he?" he asked hopefully, as he hobbled over to the Healer.

She eyed him carefully, her expression frustratingly neutral. "Obi-Wan, I think it would be best if you went to see him yourself." She laid a hand softly on his good arm. "My friend, this will not be easy for you, I fear, but there is much hope. Go to him."

Obi-Wan's eyes misted over, a reaction he stubbornly attributed to the increasingly throbbing pain coming from his shoulder and thigh. Ignoring Padme, he smiled gratefully at Luminara and slowly limped into the mansion.

_(Anakin, I'm coming.)_

Padme watched him leave with a frown of disgust on her face. Her eyes flicked up to meet Luminara's.

"How is he doing?" she asked, with just a touch of concern.

Luminara was confused. "As I said, there is much hope that Anakin will have a full recovery."

"No, I meant Obi-Wan. He looks very…fragile," her deep brown eyes narrowed.

Luminara shrugged. "Obi-Wan is Obi-Wan. He will never complain, nor will he take the time to care for himself. His wounds are quite severe. They are healing, but it is really too soon for him to be so active. I am worried that he will sacrifice his recovery for Anakin's sake."

Padme harrumphed, folding her arms across her chest. "He shouldn't be here."

"You do not want Obi-Wan to go to Anakin? Why, Senator? Despite his injuries, he _is _Anakin's Master."

In a barely composed voice, Padme replied, "He may be Anakin's Master, but Obi-Wan does not understand Anakin or his needs. Ani and I have been friends for as long as he has known Obi-Wan, and I know how hard Anakin has worked to earn a kind word, an acknowledgement of his successes. He desperately wanted—desperately _wants_—to win Obi-Wan's approval! If Obi-Wan had shown Ani that he cared and was proud of him, none of this would have happened to Ani—he would never have tried so hard!" Angry tears threatened the corners of her brown eyes. "I just can't bear the thought of Ani blaming himself for all of this when he wakes up, instead of placing the blame where it belongs!"

Luminara's eyes widened with understanding. "Haja! You believe Obi-Wan is responsible for Anakin's injuries? Just because he is the Master? Is Anakin not an adult, capable of making his own decisions?" She shook her head incredulously. "Senator, if you'll forgive me, you are not a Jedi and you simply do not know—_ cannot_ know— enough about the Master-Padawan relationship to make that assumption. And, as for being a friend of Anakin's, you don't seem to understand _their _particular relationship at all."

That sharp remark from the normally serene Jedi caught Padme's attention.

She responded in a tone far harsher than she had intended. "Master Luminara, I know that I am not a Jedi, but I assure you, I understand all too well what that relationship is all about. It is always about what Obi-Wan _demands, _and rarely about what Anakin _needs. _I have listened to Anakin for years—".

"Yes, Senator, but have you heard what he has said, or more importantly, what he has _not _said?" Luminara suddenly stopped, although she seemed on the verge of saying more. She bowed slightly, continuing in a more respectful tone. "I apologize for my impudence, Senator. It is not my place to interfere or judge; my duty is to care for Anakin. I must tell you, however, that Anakin's recovery, and Obi-Wan's, for that matter, hinges on the two of them reconnecting, both through their mental bond and through their relationship."

Padme was surprised at the Healer's frankness. Could she be right? "Oh yes, _the bond_, again…," she said with just a twinge of sarcasm.

"That is the nature of the Master-Padawan relationship, of their bond, and of the Force, Senator. Anakin, as you know, is very unique in his ability to connect to the Force. Obi-Wan may be the only one who can _find _Anakin and bring him back." She gave Padme a gentle, knowing smile. "Perhaps it is for the best that you will be departing for Coruscant; this discord between you and Obi-Wan may only hinder Anakin's progress."

Confusion and frustration left Padme without words. She nodded mutely, and left Luminara, heading for the transport that would take her to the galactic capital.

_Oh, Ani, I hope I'm doing the right thing leaving you…_

_Bloody Sith Hell!_ Obi-Wan swore to himself, as he stopped yet again to catch his breath and rest the leg that quivered from overuse and throbbed in time to his heartbeat. Thankfully, this hall had a cushioned bench. _Just how damn big does one need a house in the country to be, anyway?_

He had already gone up one level, and down two, or was it three, hallways? Perhaps he should have asked for directions, but he was using his Padawan's Force-signature as his guide. He would find Anakin on his own; he did not need anyone's assistance. He was Anakin's Master and it was his duty to find him.

As he sat there, he tried not to think about Padme's words, nor the disconcerting conversation he'd had with Luminara enroute to Naboo. He tried to focus his energies on stopping the pain that pounded down his leg and across his shoulder.

Instead of finding focus, something else found him. The memories started to come unbidden.

The first time he met Anakin, on Padme's starship, as they blasted away from Tatooine.

_"A pathetic life form, that's what I thought of him. And he knew it, then."_

Telling Anakin, in the wake of Qui-Gon's death, that he would be a Jedi.

_"I did it because I loved Qui-Gon, it was his last request. Did Anakin know this as well?"_

Taking some of his own Padawan braid to create Anakin's, symbolically linking them together forever as Master and Padawan.

_"He was so proud to have that braid; he showed it off to anyone who would look."_

Obi-Wan sighed deeply, lost in the memories of that young boy with the big blue eyes and boundless energy. He hadn't even realized his eyes were closed. _I'll never get there at this rate._ He struggled to stand, putting most of his weight to bear on his good leg and the cane.

At the end of this long, opulently decorated hall was a suite of rooms. Anakin's rooms. It seemed so close, and still so far away. As he began his tortured gait, the memories continued to wash over him, increasing in their frequency and intensity.

All the times he woke to find Anakin shivering in cold and fear at his bedside from a nightmare.

_"All he wanted was reassurance, to know he wasn't alone."_

All the times he had to cover for Anakin with the Council when he'd broken some part of the Padawan Code.

_"He knew I'd do it, despite my anger and disappointment. I knew I would, too."_

The white double doors were getting closer. Unfortunately, the excruciating pain in his leg, now joined by his arm in a symphony of torment, was once again forcing him to stop. "Force, help me!" he groaned out loud, as he leaned his weight against the wall, his breath ragged. He squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to focus his strength.

The wonder on Anakin's face the first time he held a lightsabre.

_"He was such a natural; as though the weapon itself was created solely for Anakin Skywalker."_

The night of Anakin's 19th birthday, when they shared a glass of Corellian brandy.

_"It flushed his cheeks immediately, and I teased him for it. That made him pout, which only made him that much more beautiful and endearing."_

That last thought caused an ache deep within Obi-Wan, an ache not made by Dooku's lightsabre.

With a grunt, he pulled himself off of the wall, and continued to hobble to his destination, now just a few treacherous steps away. The memories were relentless now.

The swagger Anakin had when he knew he was being watched…

His peals of laughter right in the middle of a stern lecture from his Master…

His insistence that, despite what Obi-Wan said, he would not be the death of his Master…

The passion he had for the people he cared about, the lengths to which he would go to protect them…

The thunder in his voice when he told Dooku "you're going to pay"…

The convulsing of his body as the Sith lightning ravaged it…

The dark look in his eye when his green blade slashed down to protect Obi-Wan from Dooku's death blow…

The _thud _of Anakin's unconscious, battered body as it smashed into Obi-Wan's…

Obi-Wan reached the door just in time, as his body gave out from the physical and emotional strain. He collapsed into a plush velvet chair that sat just outside the door, his body shaking and his vision blurring. He brought his hands up to his face, only then feeling the wetness on his cheeks. _I must stop this right now. It would never do to have Anakin see me this way, so emotional,_ he admonished himself. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. _Anakin needs me. I will not let him down._

Once again struggling to stand, Obi-Wan reached for the golden handle of the door. Slowly, he pushed the thick, heavy door open and entered the room. Bits of dust danced in the golden sunshine that streamed through the open windows, temporarily blinding him.

As his eyes adjusted to the light, he scanned the room, noting how it was somehow both sterile and yet luxurious. The space was tastefully appointed in various shades of white and blue, with a thick, soft carpet the color of the blue milk Anakin favored so much. White lace curtains waved lazily in the breeze, framed by velvety navy drapes. A set of double doors stood open, allowing in both the rays of the late day sun and the fresh scent of the lake. Through the doors was a large patio that overlooked the lake, with an unparalled view of the mountains. Normally, Obi-Wan's aesthetic sense would have appreciated such a place; now, he barely noticed as he struggled into the room that held his Padawan.

_(Anakin, I'm— )_ He cut himself off.

He had been in no way prepared for what now lay before him.

_"Oh, Anakin!"_ was the anguished whisper that left his lips as he staggered forward to the left side of Anakin's bed.

Anakin, _his_ Anakin, lay frighteningly still in the center of a large bed, his head propped up slightly by several pillows of various shades of blue. The bed itself, carved from a rich dark wood, was adorned with white silk sheets and soft, fluffy-looking blue blankets. Against Anakin's skin, the bedding only seemed to accentuate the pallor his skin had adopted. Always a desert boy, Anakin had never really lost his perpetual sun-kissed complexion. But now…now he was pale, so pale, and Force, but he looked weak. Honey colored lashes kissed those pale cheeks, keeping his vibrant blue eyes from view. Despite all this, Anakin still looked youthful, handsome, but most of all, peaceful.

Obi-Wan couldn't believe the changes in Anakin in just two weeks. _It might as well have been two months,_ he thought bitterly. Anakin was shirtless, probably to allow access to the numerous dressing changes he had initially needed. Now, just a couple of patches remained, as well as many faint yellowing bruises along his ribs and abdomen. The bacta had done wonders, though—so many of the grievous wounds he had incurred were now soft pink scars, well on their way to healing.

Bacta had also had another curious effect— as it had accelerated the body's healing ability, it also had accelerated hair growth. Short golden curls had replaced the bristly Padawan cut, and were fanned out around his head on the pillow, almost like a halo. Obi-Wan tentatively reached a shaking hand up to Anakin's hair, smiling with trembling lips as he gently ran a hand through those soft curls. Anakin's hair had been stick-straight as a boy. _Another effect of the bacta?_

His breath caught in his throat when he saw Anakin's Padawan braid, draped across his bare chest, rising and falling with each breath. Obi-Wan lifted his hand from Anakin's hair, and picked up the plait between his fingers, letting it slide slowly through his thumb and forefinger. It, too, had grown. _It needs to be rebraided, my Padawan._ His heart swelled at that thought. _You are still _my _Padawan, Anakin._

When his eyes fell on the white sleeve on Anakin's right arm, concealing what was no longer there, Obi-Wan lost whatever remaining hold he had on the grief and guilt he had suppressed for two weeks. A wail of anguish escaped unhindered as his body shook with a torrent of sobs. No longer able to stand, he sank into the chair at Anakin's bedside, his hands covering his face, his body rocking back and forth, as he mourned the loss of that arm, the loss of Anakin's innocence.

_Anakin, how will you ever forgive me? I'm sorry. I'm so sorry._

With tears pouring down his cheeks, he reached over and took Anakin's left hand into his own, entwining their fingers. He reached up with his other hand and began to softly finger some of the blonde curls near Anakin's ear, as he leaned in close and whispered soft nonsense words of comfort to his Padawan.

At some point, as the Nubian sun drifted behind the mountains, the grief, pain, and exhaustion all mingled together, overwhelming Obi-Wan. He didn't even realize it when his body relaxed into a deep slumber, his head on Anakin's bed, still holding his hand.

_(Anakin, I'm here…)_ was his last thought as he succumbed to the peaceful darkness.


	3. Hold On

Disclaimer: All characters owned by GL, his company, and/or associated authors. I'm just playing!

**Author's note:** Thank you all for your kind reviews--I'm glad to see that Obi-Wan is really resonating! If you'd be so kind, I'd really like feedback on this chapter, as it was really hard to write Anakin's experience. I hope it worked!

**Vee017:** Thank you for another very insightful review! Yes, Anakin wants his love! Sweet boy. Angst-magnet? LOL, our dear Obi-Wan is that!

**Maia's Pen:** Thanks for reading! Addicted? Yeah, the boys will do that to you. Don't you just want to hug Obi-Wan? Sarah is an angst demon, isn't she? I'm having fun finding the quotes!

**Liana-chan: **I love it that you need a tissue--I'm passing you the box for the next chapter...

**Alchemy Dream: **As always, you find such a wonderful way to look at things. Yes, Anakin has lost his innocence, but I think in a way they both did that day. Now they need to figure out what that means.

**XtinethePirate: **(TMF is done! Yay for you!) Thank you, thank you for giving me the confidence to tackle this chapter. Glad you didn't have to beta this one too much! Hope you still enjoy it! Love you! 

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**Chapter 3: Hold On**

"_**Now you're sleeping peaceful, I lie awake and pray  
that you'll be strong tomorrow and we'll see another day…"**_

--S. McLachlan, _Hold On_

Obi-Wan began to stir as he felt the hand fall lightly on his shoulder. Where was he? Why did his entire body ache as though he'd been trampled by a herd of banthas? He grimaced as he tried to move a very stiff neck. "Anakin…," he mumbled, slowly remembering where he was. His eyes fought to open, his head to raise.

_Anakin! He's awake…_

However, as Obi-Wan's vision cleared, it was not his Padawan's visage that greeted his eager eyes.

"Haja, Obi-Wan!" swore Luminara softly, as a small frown appeared on her tattooed lips. "What are you doing? How long have you been here?" It was a rhetorical question, really. She could see the dried tear tracks on the Jedi Master's cheeks, the redness in his eyes, the messy clump of his hair on one side of his head. A sad smile replaced her frown, as her gaze traveled over to Anakin and saw how tightly Obi-Wan held the long, delicate fingers of his Padawan.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes for a second, his disappointment and embarrassment evident. _I was so sure it was Anakin. How absurdly foolish of me to assume my mere presence would be enough._ His eyes darted over to his Padawan, and ashamed, he withdrew his hand from Anakin's.

"Luminara, I—" he began, but felt at a loss for words.

Luminara, to Obi-Wan's relief, let the moment pass without comment. "You need your rest, my friend. Here, let me help you up." As she reached over and put a hand on his arm, Obi-Wan couldn't help but let out a hiss of pain. She could feel the heat radiating from Obi-Wan, and upon further inspection, spied the tell-tale sheen of perspiration on his forehead. Her brows creased together with worry.

"When was the last time you changed your dressings? Took a pain patch?" she queried, trying her utmost to be patient with him. The man was clearly not well.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes with disinterest. "Luminara, I'm fine, really—uuunnnhhh!" he groaned as he tried to straighten his injured leg. Suddenly, everything seemed to tilt, first to the left, then the right.

"Obstinate nerf! You have a fever, probably an infection, too. Obi-Wan, I warned you this could happen!" she lectured.

"No, just give me a new pain patch, I'll be fine," he said through gritted teeth.

"No, my friend, you _need_ to _rest_. Now come, let us get you to your quarters. The Senator has designated a handsome room—" she tried to steer him toward the door.

He shot her a fierce look as he tried to root his feet in place, still stumbling a bit to keep his balance. "No! I'm not leaving Anakin, Luminara. Not again. My place is here. I'll not be sent away again."

Luminara took a deep breath, then let it out slowly as she looked around. Thankfully, Anakin's room was actually a suite…

"All right, how about a compromise? Over there, through that door, is another small bedroom. Would that be acceptable?" She doubted he could make it much further, anyway, in his condition.

Obi-Wan's stubborn pride was sorely tempting him to say no, but the dizziness was getting worse, along with the awful heat he felt radiating from his leg and shoulder as they throbbed in time with his heart. He nodded his head numbly. "All right, _Master Healer_. But only for a quick nap—really, I'll be fine. It is Anakin who needs you, Luminara, do not waste your time on me."

With some difficulty, Luminara managed to help Obi-Wan into the smaller, more austere bedroom. She gently helped him sit on the bed, then bent down to unfasten his boots.

"For Sith's sake, Luminara, I _can _undress myself," he snapped. He attempted to bend down to reach the boots, but was cut short by a wave of searing pain in his leg, accompanied by nausea.

Luminara chuckled lightly. "Or, I could do it for you," she said, as the boots came off. But when she stood up to help him with his Jedi robe and outer tunic, he reddened and swatted her away.

"Can you just give me a minute?" he growled, hating to be treated like a youngling. He also had no intention of having his friend undress him—it would be entirely too… _humiliating_. "A little privacy, perhaps?"

She shrugged her shoulders and went to Anakin's room in search of some supplies to change his bandages, as well as something else. After much grumbling, groaning, and cursing from the other room, she returned.

"What's all that?" he asked suspiciously, as he eyed the armload of supplies she carried.

_Aaahh, paranoia. A sure sign of fever._ She feigned nonchalance. "You need your bandages changed, Obi-Wan." She started with his shoulder, carefully peeling back the bacta patch. A slight frown formed at the corners of her mouth. The wound was inflamed but otherwise did not appear to be infected. She delicately placed a sterile bacta patch over it, pressing softly to adhere it. Obi-Wan turned his head away as he bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut.

She moved down to his thigh, thankful he had the foresight to change into loose shorts. She didn't need to even remove the patch to know that it was infected. Angry red lines streaked down his leg away from the wound, the surrounding skin seemingly swollen and taut. As gently as she could, she first held her hand above the patch, sending warm Force-healing pulses to him, in an attempt to mute the pain that was about to come. "This is going to hurt, my friend," she said apologetically, as she proceeded to remove the patch.

Obi-Wan's whole body went rigid as he cried out, hands clenching the bedding as tears involuntarily leaked from the corners of his eyes. He tried to find focus and comfort in the Force, but the pain was too distracting.

Luminara sensed his distress and reached into the Force, locating the dark aura of pain that surrounded Obi-Wan's Force-signature. Utilizing a Healer's technique, she enveloped the darkness, drowning it with a wave of soothing relief. He slowly let out his breath and his body began to relax as the pain ebbed.

"Perhaps you'll listen to me next time," she murmured, carefully placing a new bacta patch and dressing on the wound.

Obi-Wan angrily swiped at the tears that had escaped. "My…_discomfort_…is _nothing_ compared to what Anakin has had, and what he will have, to endure," he replied tersely.

"And here I thought, Master Kenobi, that you wanted to help bring your Padawan back, that you wanted to help with his recovery," she chided.

Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed. "Of course I do, Luminara. You know that!" His voice dropped to a whisper as he turned his head away toward the door that joined their rooms. "It is my fault he's in there. These wounds, my _inabilities_, kept me from helping him before. I will not allow them to do so now."

Luminara's rarely-seen temper flared to life. "Neglecting yourself is not going to bring Anakin's arm back, Obi-Wan! Do you really believe Anakin would want you to harm yourself on his behalf? It is not only foolish, Obi-Wan, it is utterly _selfish_!"

"Selfish? No, laying there, doing nothing, while Dooku hacked at him relentlessly, _that _was selfish, Luminara!" He turned away again, choking on the bile he felt rising in his throat as he recalled every horrific detail. _The smell, by the Force, the smell…singed robes, cauterized flesh…both his and mine. And I did _nothing _to help him._

Luminara was appalled at the degree of self-loathing she felt in her old friend. She forced her voice to return to its calm, serene tone. She reached out and squeezed his hand. "Obi-Wan. My friend. You were seriously injured; there is no denying that truth, and the rest…you and Anakin will have to work out together. What you must try to remember is that you can help Anakin _now._ But you cannot help him if you are delirious with fever and incapacitated by pain."

She gave him a gentle smile as she brought her hand up, as though she was going to smooth away the tears. At the last moment, she dropped her hand to his neck, opening her fingers to reveal a small syringe. She gently pressed it into his neck, emptying it of its sedative.

Obi-Wan's eyes went wide. "Luminara…noooo…" he said, his words already starting to slur.

"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan, but you must rest. Close your eyes now. Anakin will need you very soon." To encourage his cooperation, she gave him a gentle Force-suggestion of sleep.

He could no longer keep his eyes open, his lids were simply too heavy. "And you wonder why I loathe going to the Healer's Ward…" he quipped, finally drifting off into a healing sleep.

Luminara smiled to herself, pleased that she was at least able to help one of her patients. But the other… She frowned as she entered Anakin's room and spied his still form nestled in the multitude of blankets and pillows. Anakin's recovery was going to test every Healer's technique she had ever learned, she feared. There had never been a Jedi like Anakin, much less a condition quite as severe as his prolonged Force-induced coma. Truthfully, she wasn't sure if she _could_ bring him back; she wasn't lying when she had told Obi-Wan that Anakin would need him. She had a feeling that their bond might be the only way to reach him.

She sighed as she stood over Anakin, carefully probing his wounds with her deft fingers, looking for signs of infection. Unlike his Master, Anakin's injuries were healing remarkably. _The Force is looking out for this one; that much I do know._

She placed her hand on his right bicep and closed her eyes, using the Force to determine if there was any additional nerve or muscle damage, but found none, to her satisfaction. It would make his physical adjustment to a prosthesis that much easier if he didn't have to fight infection and lingering wounds. _But will he be able to make that transition emotionally? Will Obi-Wan?_

Seeing that all of Anakin's external injuries were healing properly, she drew herself into the chair recently vacated by Obi-Wan. One hand she rested on top of Anakin's, the other she placed lightly on his forehead. She let out a deep breath and closed her eyes, immersing herself in the Force.

_Let's see where you've gone, young one, and why you haven't come back…_

-----------

_SPLASH!_ He kicked hard as he swam for the surface, gasping for air as he broke through. _Force_, the water was cold, but it made him feel so alive, so whole, so at peace. He grinned wildly as he looked up into the warm sun, falling into a relaxed back stroke across the placid water of the lake. He loved the freedom he felt in the water, how it caressed every inch of his skin, how it was so unlike coarse, sandy Tatooine in every way.

He had always loved to swim, ever since his Master had first taught him in the Temple pools when he was nine. At first Anakin had been afraid, but even more scared to let his precious new Master see his fear. But Obi-Wan had known. Somehow, Obi-Wan _always_ knew when Anakin was afraid, but did not coddle or mock him. He would crouch down to Anakin's level, blue-green eyes twinkling as they looked into him, and would say in his firm, yet gentle voice, "Padawan, I know you can do this." So Anakin did, every time, without a second thought. Anakin did not want to let Obi-Wan down, did not want his Master to see that his faith in his Padawan had been misplaced.

Lost in the reverie, Anakin was startled when the tranquility of the moment was abruptly disturbed by a vision of Obi-Wan, bloodied by double lightsabre burns, which danced callously through his mind.

_But I did let him down. Oh Master…Obi-Wan…I'm sorry…_

Scowling, he immediately deflected the thought, pushing it aside with disdain. He certainly didn't want to think about that, not here, not now.

He started across the water again, when without warning, his mind was assaulted by a vision of Count Dooku smiling maliciously as he held his crimson sabre high above Obi-Wan… _Master, I'm sorry…sorry…sorry…_ churned through Anakin's mind, as he felt a part of himself break apart at the memory of what the Sith had done to his Master, how he himself had carelessly tossed aside all of his training when he gave into his emotions and rushed in for revenge.

Anakin's breath quickened as he began to struggle in the water, his right arm suddenly weakening with each stroke. _Master, please, help me_! he cried in his mind, just as he had wanted to do in that pool when he was nine. It was an appallingly weak thought he didn't want. With considerable effort, he buried all of these memories and feelings, finding each stroke a little easier, as the thoughts sunk deep down within himself.

"_Ani!"_

He heard her call out to him, then looked to see her waving to him from the shore. He returned the wave, but he wasn't ready to come back, not yet. Not when it felt this good to be out here…not having to think…or remember…

-----------

In her experiences with other Jedi who had been momentarily "lost" in the Force, Luminara had found that they often retreated either to old memories or to fantasies created by the Force to shield them from some kind of pain. Concentrating her energies, she followed the tendril of Anakin's Force-signature, still blindingly white-hot even with his injuries. She was looking for a breach of some kind in his shields, a way to penetrate his deep subconscious…only to be thwarted at every turn. _Haja! The boy has a remarkable ability to close himself off for a Padawan his age. _

Luminara decided to try a different approach, one that might work with a Jedi so connected to his emotions as Anakin was. It would be unfair, even cruel perhaps, but if it worked and got through to him… She carefully projected an image of an injured Obi-Wan along the tendril, finding some success as a chink appeared in his mental armor. But not enough to let her in. She then projected Count Dooku at that chink, effectively blasting a hole in his carefully created defenses. There was just enough of an opening… and she slipped in.

But where in the galaxy was _this_?

-------------

Anakin dove again under the blue water, swimming out deeper into the lake. He knew he wasn't alone here, in this place; he hadn't been for a single moment since he arrived. The water was here, the sun was here, and _they _were here. That's all he cared to think about right now.

"_Ani!" _she called out to him again.

"I'll be right there!" he called, as he cut swift, fast strokes through the water to the shore.

She was there to greet him with a towel. "Ani, you know how it worries me when you go out so far."

"Yes, Anakin, you should be mindful," said the jovial bearded man who casually strolled up beside her. "We're worried about you. We were afraid you wouldn't be able to find your way back, Padawan."

Anakin laughed and rolled his eyes, happier than he could remember being in a long time. But something still tugged at the edges of his mind…an elusive ache, a longing for something that seemed to be missing. No matter. He shrugged off the feeling.

"Mom, Master Qui-Gon, I'm _fine_," he tried to assure them, as he wrapped them both in an impulsive hug that would have been more appropriate at age 9 than at 19. "I've missed you both so much!" he enthused, looking to each one with wonder and delight.

Pulling back from his embrace, his mother gave him one of her sad smiles, so much like the one she had worn when he had left her on Tatooine. "Ani, I love you and I've missed you, too, but you cannot hide here forever. It is time for you to go back. They need you. _He_ needs you."

A scowl flitted across Anakin's face. _Obi-Wan doesn't need me. I'm not sure he even wants me. _"Please, I don't want to talk about it. It is better this way," he insisted, avoiding their eyes.

The elder Master gave him a sympathetic smile. "The correct path is never an easy one, Padawan, but the burden is made lighter by sharing the journey. Anakin, you are not alone, you never have been nor will you ever be. Do not force this unwanted solitude on the one who has always been by your side."

Anakin looked to Qui-Gon, begging. "Master, please! I don't want to go back, I don't want to fail anyone I care about again. I want to be here, I want to stay with you and Mom. Please."

Qui-Gon gave him a stern look and placed both hands on Anakin's shoulders, capturing his eyes. "Anakin, the Chosen One you may be, but do not deceive yourself into believing you could have altered the will of the Force. A Sith Lord killed me; a band of violent beings killed your mother. It was not in your power to change our fates."

Anakin looked away. _It should have been_. "Qui-Gon—" he started to protest.

The Master's tone was firm. "You must listen to the will of the Force, Anakin. You cannot avoid your duty nor your destiny."

Anakin hated how the Jedi Master was still so frustratingly cryptic.

Angry and petulant, he flung the towel to the grass and stalked back to the lake, longing for another swim that would drown out the anxiety, fear, and regret he felt coiled deep within him.

As his lithe form cut through the water, the thought again came to him unwittingly.

_(Master, please, help me…)_

-----

Luminara stood on a high, grass-covered hill, astounded to look down and see Anakin swimming with great skill, in the middle of the very lake that his room on Naboo overlooked. Interestingly, he looked much like he did on Ansion, with his Padawan hair cut, both arms still intact.

_So, this is where he went to hide—but why?_ Scanning across the lake, she saw a dark haired woman watching Anakin, a worried expression on her face. The Healer tried calling out to Anakin, but no sound came forth from her lips. Puzzled, she tried again, this time with both her mouth and her mind, but to no end. Luminara frowned in frustration. She had found Anakin, yet she could not reach him.

"He cannot hear you, Luminara. He doesn't want to."

Luminara was not startled; she had felt his presence as soon as she had arrived. Nevertheless, when she turned toward the voice, she was surprised to be able to see him so vividly.

"Yes, I discovered that," she allowed. She raised an eyebrow as she looked up into his mercurial eyes. "Master Jinn, it is…unusual…to see you."

Qui-Gon rumbled a hearty laugh. "Nothing gets you ruffled, does it? Except for my former Padawan and _his _Padawan, perhaps?"

She gave him a subtle nod, then gestured in Anakin's direction. "Tell me, Master Jinn, who is that woman with Anakin?"

Qui-Gon's eyes saddened as he folded his arms across his chest. "His mother, Shmi. You may not know this, but he lost her very recently, and it is a weight that he has borne with tremendous difficulty. He holds himself responsible for her death."

"Was he?"

Qui-Gon sighed deeply. "It wouldn't matter if he was. He chose the way of the Jedi; he must come to terms with the consequences of _all _his choices. As we all do."

Again, she nodded, then looked at him. "Why is Anakin still here? What is he waiting for?"

There was a long silence between them. Finally, the Jedi Master answered. "I am not sure. The Living Force often clouds its intentions, Luminara, but will reveal them in time. To be the Chosen One is not a path either of us will ever travel. Only one has traveled it with him."

Luminara considered his words, comprehending his meaning. "Obi-Wan."

Qui-Gon smiled sagely. "The bond they share is exceptionally strong, of that I have no doubt. Obi-Wan's may be the only voice Anakin will hear; but I fear it is also the voice that he hides from the most."

Luminara watched Anakin for a bit. She turned again to Qui-Gon. "Will Anakin listen?"

"I do not know, Luminara. We must trust in the Force; it is all we can do."

--------

Luminara opened her eyes, seeing that most of the day had passed—the sun was again dipping behind the purple mountains that framed it, golden rays casting long shadows into the room. She slouched in the chair at Anakin's bedside, deep in thought. Her eyes moved over to regard the door to Obi-Wan's room, reaching out to sense his peaceful sleep. _At least he still rests—he's going to need it._

------

_(Master, please, help me…)_

Obi-Wan moaned as he heard the words, muffled at first in his mind. Although still deep in a healing sleep, he knew his Padawan's voice immediately.

_(Master, please, help me…) _came the words again.

This time it was clearer.

Obi-Wan's eyes opened in a panic, his breath coming in short fits as his eyes looked wildly around the room.

Anakin was calling out for him, in so much pain, and so afraid.

_(Anakin, I'm here!)_

He tried to reassure his Padawan, but was met with a blanketed silence in their training bond…

* * *

Did the Force imagery work? I'm just curious to know if it translated well. Thanks so much for taking the time to read. I promise--Anakin is definitely on his way back! TempleMistress. 


	4. This Lonely Place

**Disclaimer:** GL's playground, not mine. Sniff.

**Author's Notes: **Thank you all in advance for coming back to this story--I'm so sorry it has been so long since the last update. This is the hardest thing I've ever written, certainly the most creative and demading, and I think it took just about everything out of me. Damn that Qui-Gon Jinn! Capturing his voice and his relationship with Obi-Wan had me blocked for over a week! I hope the chapter as a whole translates well and moves you in the way it was intended. It is also a tad lengthy, but there was just so much that needed to be said and so much for them to go through. I appreciate any and all feedback, but most of all, I just appreciate that you've taken the time to get reacquainted with _Do What You Have to Do_.

**Maia's Pen:** Obi-Wan is THE angst-machine! Thanks for such a purr-fect review, too. I can't seem to get a grip on my mega-crushes, either, LOL! I'm so GLAD that Anakin's part worked for you--thank you for all your comments. loves

**Vee017:** The love runs both ways, sister! Let me know what you think of Qui-Gon here. And yes, Anakin _definitely_ still needs Obi-Wan!

**Juliana: **Thank you! I hope you'll continue to read, and that I did right by your fave, Qui-Gon.

**Ilana Starr:** WOW! Thanks for the compliment, but there are so many GREAT Obi/Anakin authors here: Vee, Monchy, Alchemy Dream, and of course XtinethePirate! Check them all out. Welcome to the fandom--we are a bit zealous about our boys!

**Monchy:** Getting a review from you is such a sweet treat! Thanks also for the blisteringly funny review of Sexy MF. The memories mixing with the pain was just what I was going for, and it makes me giddy to no end that other people could see and feel it, too. Thanks for sharing that with me!

**Alchemy Dream:** So glad you like Luminara! At times, I think she gets to say and do all the things we'd like to. Yes, she's tender, but she's also tough when need be. As always, I so appreciate the time you take to look deeper and to share your insights. And you are right--even I don't always see the levels, but I'm so grateful that you do and share them with me. Thank you. I think (hope?) you'll like this chapter, too.

**XtinethePirate:** There are truly no words of thanks and praise I can utter to you. You were simple amazing through this whole hideous process. Patient, encouraging, understanding, and most of all, you just listened. THANK YOU! This chapter is totally dedicated to you, because with out you, I would certainly have given up on it a long time ago. So loving you!

* * *

**Chapter 4: This Lonely Place**

"_**Promises of a long lost friend speaks to me of comfort, but I fear I have nothing to give and I have so much to lose here in this lonely place…"**_

--S. McLachlan, _Fear _

_(Master, please, help me!)_

Anakin had called out for him, pleading for his Master's help. Anakin needed help. Needed _him_.

_I have to get to Anakin. Now!_

_(Anakin, I'm here!)_

He tried to reassure his Padawan, but was met with a blanketed silence in their training bond.

_(Anakin, please! Tell me where you are! ANAKIN!)_

Silence.

_Get up! Get up!_ he screamed to his reluctant body. He was ashamed that he'd been caught off guard, ashamed that he'd once again abandoned Anakin.

How did he get here? Ah, yes…Luminara! He seethed, rubbing the spot on his neck as he remembered the slight prick of the sedative's needle. As he forced himself to a sitting position, Obi-Wan groaned at how uncooperative his body had become. _Sith, I told her just a short nap!_

Gingerly, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and slowly attempted to stand. Although his leg still burned mildly, he had to admit that it was feeling better. He donned the robe at the end of the bed, fumbled around until he located the Sith-forsaken cane, and slowly limped out to Anakin's room.

In the twilight of the evening, the room had adopted a soothing blue hue that played off the white of the curtains and bed linens, and cast Anakin in a serene glow, more serene than any other time he'd seen Anakin asleep. It hurt almost as much to see Anakin this time as it had the first, because now it was real—he couldn't pass it off as a bad dream or a fantasy of his fever-induced imagination.

He looked over to Luminara, who appeared to be asleep in the chair at Anakin's bedside, a small frown working the corners of her mouth. In his haste and distraction, Obi-Wan caught his toe on the edge of the carpet, forcing him to stumble, followed by a string of colourful curses. When he regained control, and what little dignity he felt he had left, he looked up, flustered, to find Luminara watching him intently.

"Obi-Wan, you shouldn't—"

He cut her off impatiently with a wave of his free hand. "He called to me, Luminara. I heard him. I heard him!"

She raised her eyebrows with some disbelief. "Are you sure?" she asked carefully.

Obi-Wan's face betrayed his annoyance and anxiety. "Of course I'm sure!" he snapped. "Luminara, I'm sure I know my own Padawan's voice, for Sith's sake! He needs my help."

"Obi-Wan, I know your bond is strong, but to communicate actual words, sentences…" She trailed off with uncertainty. "It is very rare between Jedi; I know of no living Jedi who have this ability." She looked at him with questioning eyes.

He gave her a lopsided smile. "Now you do," he replied shyly, avoiding her eyes. "It is not something we advertise—I somehow do not think the Council would approve. I'm afraid they might interpret this…this…"

"Intimacy?" Luminara offered, much to Obi-Wan's discomfort. But he could not deny that's what it was.

"Er...yes," he agreed, quietly. "The Council would surely separate us for having such an…an… attachment."

Luminara couldn't help but be curious. "How long have you two had this ability?"

She noticed the far-off look in his eyes, the wry smile of a long-past memory ghosting his lips. He turned to her. "Since the very first time I put that Padawan braid in his hair, here on Naboo. Of course his hair was much too short for anything substantial, so I took some strands from mine and began to weave them in with his hair." The smile on his face was betrayed only by the waver in his voice. "As I watched the copper and blonde twine together, I realized that I could hear every one of his thoughts. Not just feelings, " he looked up at her, "but his _thoughts_. A flicker of grief over Qui-Gon, his doubts about me, even silly, childish things like how he was going to show the damn thing off to Padme to impress her." He laughed softly, caught up in the remembrance. "No, we couldn't speak directly in the beginning, but as our bond strengthened, so did our ability to communicate through the bond."

Luminara was intrigued, surprised that she had never considered this before. _Of course. Of course!_ Qui-Gon had given her the solution; she just hadn't had all of the information.

"Luminara, I know it was him," he said with a quiet certainty, breaking into her thoughts.

"Obi-Wan, I do not doubt that, not after what you have told me. Have you been able to contact him? Are you able to communicate with him now? Is he responding?"

He let out a frustrated sigh. "No. Nothing at all, just… silence, a silence we've never had before now. I can feel his Force-signature, but it is like he's tuned me out. Until now. Until this. He asked me for help, Luminara. Help with what? _I don't know what to do_," he cried out, an edge of hysteria to his voice. He felt so helpless, so _useless_, unable to help the one person who desperately needed his help. The last of his usual Jedi grace left him and he began to stagger a bit, his Sith-damned leg reacting to the intense physical and emotional stress.

Luminara went over to him, gently guiding the Jedi into the chair. She perched herself on the edge of Anakin's bed, quietly contemplating everything Obi-Wan had told her.

He set his jaw stubbornly. "It _was_ him. I can _assure _you it was him!" His eyes narrowed with suspicion and worry as he leaned forward eagerly. "What is it? What has happened?"

"Obi-Wan, while you were sleeping—"

"Drugged, you mean, don't you?" he said with biting sarcasm.

She ignored him with a shrug. "While you were sleeping, I tried a Healer's technique for locating those lost in the Force." She paused and then gave him a small smile. "I found him, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan's mouth gaped with surprise as his heart surged with hope. "You-you found him?" His eyes darted over to the blissfully peaceful young man, half expecting his Padawan to be looking back, a cheeky remark ready on his tongue.

Luminara continued. "He certainly didn't want me to, and resisted many complex Healer methods for entering his mind. He has remarkable shielding capabilities for a Padawan, Obi-Wan. You have taught him well."

_Of that I am all too aware_, he thought ruefully. In truth, he'd had to teach Anakin very little about shielding. In many ways, Anakin was still an enigma, ten years into his training. If Anakin wanted to hide something, even his Master had a hard time penetrating those shields. But there were ways, and as Anakin's Master, Obi-Wan would have had every right to use those methods. But he never had. To do so would be a breach of the implicit trust they had forged together, and it would break a promise he'd made long ago.

"But Luminara, why isn't he awake? If you were able to find him, why did he call for me, for my help?"

With a fluid grace, the Healer moved off the bed and crouched in front of Obi-Wan, gently pressing her fingers against his lips to quiet his questions. "Obi-Wan," she started in a soft voice, "I said I _found_ him. But he cannot, _does not_, want to hear me. He is in a great deal of pain—emotional pain, and the Force has provided a safe haven, if you will, for him to hide from that pain."

She backed away as Obi-Wan's hand came up to cover his mouth. He closed his eyes and let out a deep melancholic sigh._ Of course. That's why he doesn't answer. He's in pain, and it is all my fault. He's not lost—he's hiding from _me_ and doesn't want to come back. _ Obi-Wan let himself fall back into the chair as he felt the despair wash over him.

Luminara could not help but feel her friend's anguish as it radiated through the Force. "Obi-Wan, listen to me. Anakin is _choosing_ not to hear _me_. You are his Master, and you two obviously share a…_unique_…and powerful bond, and a camaraderie that is envied by every other Master/Padawan team in the Order. I'm not sure you even realize how entwined your Force-signatures are, my friend."

"What do you mean?" he asked, throwing her a confused look.

"When we were on Ansion, when I looked at you both through the Force, it was often difficult to discern where one of you ended and the other began, particularly during battle, like you were two halves of the same whole. Your bond with Anakin is the strongest I've witnessed between any two Jedi, and I doubt that you'll be able to sever it when he becomes a Knight. Given what you've told me, I can't imagine why you would."

She reached over and patted his arm encouragingly.

"The fact that he has called out to you is very good news, Obi-Wan. We have every reason to believe that he will listen to _you_."

"_We_?" he asked, slightly bemused. His head was beginning to swim with emotions he could not seem to control.

"Yes. Obi-Wan, Master Jinn was there, too." She watched the kaleidoscope of emotions dance through his blue-green eyes at the mention of his former Master.

"Q-Qui-Gon?" he whispered. _No. No. It cannot be. _His beloved Master, whom he had failed so miserably. "But Luminara, Qui-Gon is dead," he said, in a voice pained by the memory. It still hurt to say those words out loud, but so much more so now, on Naboo, without Anakin really there as a reminder of his Master's final and greatest gift to Obi-Wan before his passing. _Qui-Gon is dead. Dead…dead…dead… _the words echoed mockingly through his mind.

"Obi-Wan, all things are possible in the Force; do you not recall your training?" she gently admonished him.

"Luminara, I don't understand," he cried, throwing his hands up into his hair in confusion and frustration.

The comlink on Luminara's belt chimed. She threw him a quick look of apology, then read the message.

"Obi-Wan, it is the Council. Haja, I'm overdue for my report. I had better not put off this call as well. I will return shortly," she said, standing to leave.

Obi-Wan grabbed her hand to get her attention. "Luminara, please…you won't say anything…"

She squeezed his hand. "About what? That Master Kenobi is a terrible patient who never, ever listens to his Healer? That's definitely _not _one of your better-kept secrets, my friend," she chuckled, moving past him and out the door.

Alone again with Anakin, Obi-Wan stood and moved to the edge of the bed, unconsciously taking his Padawan's limp hand into his own, brushing the top with his other hand.

Try as he might, he couldn't silence the nagging voice in his head. The one that he had thought he'd silenced years ago. The one that was ugly, jealous, and most of all, _pathetic_.

_Qui-Gon is with Anakin. They're together, like it should have been, before you screwed up, Obi-Wan, and got him killed. You killed him. You. Killed. Him. _

_(No…)_ He tried to block the voice, to shut it up. He didn't want to listen, to hear it.

_His last words to you were about Anakin, about how special _he _is, not you._

_(But he _is _special. He's the Chosen One.)_

_And you are not, Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon would have come to you, if you were. He went to Anakin, instead. The apprentice he always wanted._

Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut, willing the voice to stop. He didn't want to listen anymore.

_Even Luminara has been with him. But not you. He doesn't want to see you. Just like Anakin. It is pathetic that you failed both your Master and your Padawan. You're the one who should be lost, not them._

"Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!" he yelled, his hands flying up to cover his ears in a misguided attempt to block the noise in his head.

He looked at Anakin, willing himself, pleading with himself, to remember the bond _they _had. One that was stronger than the one he'd had with Qui-Gon. He spied the messy, outgrown braid, a symbolic reminder of their commitment to each other as Master and Padawan. He turned it over in his hands, searching in vain for any remnant of his own coppery hair. Of course, there wasn't any; Anakin had long since grown more than enough hair for a lengthy braid of his own.

Without much conscious thought, Obi-Wan gently removed the end tie and began to unweave the three golden pieces. At varying intervals, he carefully removed other coloured bands of thread that signified different points of achievement in Anakin's training. Gold for his 13th birthday—a milestone in a young Padawan's life. Red for high honours in acrobatics—no small feat considering his height and frame. Green for his first-place ranking in Master Tiin's space aeronautics competition—he'd beat out several Masters for that honour.

And then the one Anakin had been most proud of. Blue, for his completion of Form V lightsabre training—he'd been the youngest Padawan ever to complete training in that aggressive fighting style. That one hurt the most to remove, for it made Obi-Wan stop and glance over at that empty white sleeve, closing his eyes briefly to hide from the reality. But he couldn't. Anakin's arm was gone. _Will Anakin ever be able to regain the strength and agility to continue to use Form V?_

With all the bands out, Obi-Wan gently raked his fingers through the wavy strands, amazed again at how much it had grown because of the bacta. The hairs were soft and slightly darker in colour when compared to the golden halo of curls that adorned his head now. He absently ran a hand over the unruly locks that lay on Anakin's forehead, brushing them to the side.

"Padawan, your hair is decidedly out of control, you know. _Very_ unbecoming for a Padawan Learner, I might add. What would the Council say?" He sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes. "I _suppose_ you want me to cover for you, _again. _ Well, I guess you could use the 'But Masters, I was in a coma' excuse. They _might _believe you this time, but you better use it sparingly. They could catch on." He laughed in spite of himself, knowing Anakin would have laughed as well. _He _will_ laugh, _he told himself

He went back to the longer hair and carefully separated it into three even sections, quickly and deftly twisting them to form a slender, flat plait. After securing the end tie, he decorated the smooth length of hair with the colourful bands.

"There," he said, pleased with his handiwork. Of course, it had been years since he'd done that—Anakin's hair had been much shorter. Well, _Anakin_ had been much shorter then, too, he recalled with a slight grimace. Now his Padawan seemed to tower over him with an increasingly irritating amount of height.

He gently placed the braid back on Anakin's chest, allowing his fingers to linger just a bit. "I think it is almost as long as mine ever was, Anakin," he said with a faint smile.

"No, my dear Obi-Wan. As I recall, your hair grew like weeds and your braid was about twice as long when the two of you first met on Tatooine."

Obi-Wan froze at the sound of _that_ _voice_, certain he was hallucinating from either his fever or exhaustion.

He heard that familiar rumble of laughter, one that always seemed to hold both mirth and a lesson. "Obi-Wan, you're not hallucinating. My dear Padawan, always so full of doubt."

Obi-Wan's hands clenched at his sides as he slowly turned toward the voice, wanting to believe…

"Master? _Master!_" he whispered, afraid the sound of his voice could end this dream, this wonderful dream he'd had more times than he could ever admit, where his Master had come back to him.

Qui-Gon stood just a few feet away, looking just as he had in every one of Obi-Wan's memories. Flowing hair with just a touch of gray, eyes that sparkled with some kind of joke only he was privy to, and that warm, fatherly smile.

"No…no…." Obi-Wan shook his head, tears burning in his eyes, his heart and mind unable to absorb the flood of anguish that hammered at his very soul.

"Hello, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan began to cry, his emotions bringing him to his knees as they crashed through ever single barrier he'd created deep within himself to cover the hole in his heart where Qui-Gon had once been. It may have been ten years, but the grief and loss he felt now was as fresh as it had been when he'd lovingly held a dying Qui-Gon's head in his lap, feeling his Master's final breath leave his body. He had missed him every single day of those ten years.

"I have missed you, too, my Padawan." Obi-Wan closed his eyes and sighed as he savored the familiar brush of his former Master's mind against his, soothing the ache and easing his tears. He felt like a young Padawan again, free from all of the burdens he now carried as a Master. Seeking comfort and security from a long-forgotten habit, his right hand rose to wrap around his Padawan braid, only to find himself grasping at air. He reluctantly opened his eyes and stood up, seeing Anakin's prone figure and the recently rewoven braid draped across the younger man's chest. It was an inescapable reminder that Obi-Wan was no longer the Padawan, but the Master.

"Obi-Wan, after all these years, do I still need to tell you to be mindful of the Living Force?" Qui-Gon lightly admonished his former apprentice. "You must let go of the past and focus on the here and now."

In a small voice, Obi-Wan bowed his head and gave the near-automatic response. "Yes, Master." Still, Obi-Wan could not quiet the voice in his head that assailed him with so much doubt. "I'm-I'm _sorry _Master. I'm sorry that I failed you that day. If I had been faster…if I had been stronger…if I had—"

"Obi-Wan!" he said sharply, causing his former Padawan to look up, startled. "My passage into the Force was _not _your fault! It was the will of the Force—after all this time, do you still not understand that?"

"Master, how can it be the will of the Force that you should find Anakin, the _Chosen One_, and then _die_?" He looked over to his Padawan, remembering with regret those final days with Qui-Gon, the ones they spent fighting about Anakin. "_You_ were supposed to train Anakin, and instead, he was saddled with me, a new Knight whose best quality, according to you, was that I was 'capable'," he choked out.

"And capable you are, but it is by far not _all_ that you are, Obi-Wan." His kind blue eyes caught Obi-Wan's and held them. "You have become a great Jedi, as I always knew you would. You are a much wiser man than I ever was, Obi-Wan. But you must learn to trust in yourself."

Obi-Wan shook his head defiantly. "I am _not_ a great Jedi, Master," he gestured toward Anakin. "Look at how I've failed Anakin," he said, as he reached up to swipe at his tear-stained cheeks, "the _one thing_ you asked of me. The Sith should have taken my life that day, not yours. You should have been his Master. You would not have failed him as I have."

Qui-Gon's deep voice growled with frustration. "Force save me! Obi-Wan, how can you not see that the Force did not bring Anakin to _me_—it brought Anakin to _you_. I was but the means that brought you two together—if you recall, it was _you_ who chose for us to go to Tatooine. It was the will of the Force that _you_ be his Master, not I. Anakin is who he is, and the great Jedi he will become, because _you_, Obi-Wan Kenobi, are his Master. You have trained him far better than I could ever have."

Again, Obi-Wan felt the gentle reassurances in his mind, and he desperately wanted to believe, wanted to believe in Qui-Gon's faith in him. But all the old insecurities, all the old hurts and slights he had felt as Qui-Gon's apprentice, made it somehow not enough, even now.

He absently reached over to Anakin and tucked a few stray curls behind his Padawan's ear. "But Qui-Gon, look at what has happened to him; what I allowed to happen to him."

The elder Jedi Master looked at Anakin thoughtfully. "What I see is an astonishingly talented Padawan who has been gifted by the Force with an exceedingly patient and caring Master to guide him in his training." He paused, then slowly let out a breath. "He made a rash decision, Obi-Wan, but _he _made it. Anakin will have to learn to live with the consequences of that decision." He looked at Obi-Wan pointedly. "But he will need your help. I do not think he can do this on his own."

"But how can I help him?" Obi-Wan cried with despair. "I've heard him call for me, but when I try to reach him, there's only silence. Qui-Gon, please, tell me how to find him, how to bring him back," he implored, his eyes searching his Master's for answers.

Qui-Gon shook his head slowly. "Oh, my dear Obi-Wan." Folding his arms across his chest, he gave his apprentice a knowing look. "You and Anakin are more alike than you may realize. You both need to accept that you cannot control the Force; instead, you must allow yourselves to listen to it, flow with it, and fulfill it. You must let go of these sentiments that hold you back from hearing the will of the Force. Guilt, remorse, grief, regret. They are all in the past, Obi-Wan, and do nothing to serve you or the Force."

Obi-Wan turned his back to Qui-Gon, his fingers needlessly fiddling with the blankets, suddenly uncomfortable under his Master's scrutiny.

"You have everything Anakin needs, my Padawan. Anakin is afraid, afraid to face his fears, so he hides. Search your feelings, search his. The answer lies in your bond, Obi-Wan. The Force has given you both an extraordinary gift—use it! You will know what to do, Obi-Wan. The Force will show you the way…"

"But, Master," He turned to face Qui-Gon—

Only to find himself alone, again.

_(You are never alone, Obi-Wan. The Force has seen to that. Trust in it. Goodbye, and may the Force be with you, always.)_

Tears burned in his eyes as Obi-Wan swallowed hard and gave the air where his beloved Master had been a bittersweet smile.

_(Goodbye, Master. And thank you.)_

Obi-Wan felt the hand on his shoulder, an experience that was becoming all too familiar. His eyes fluttered open, surprised to find they had been closed.

"Obi-Wan, are you all right? You look…troubled." She put her hands on his shoulders, tilting her head to the side as she searched his face for answers. "And yet…something is different…you're smiling. Is it Anakin?" she asked hopefully.

He frowned then, shaking his head lightly. "No…it was Qui-Gon, actually." His lips curved up slightly at the thought. "Luminara, I…I think I know how to find Anakin and bring him back…"

----

Obi-Wan closed his eyes as he settled into the chair next to his Padawan's bed. He breathed in slowly, allowing himself to become immersed in the light of the Force, a familiar and comforting ritual he had practiced for as long as he had been a Jedi. As the trance deepened, he opened himself further, allowing the Force full access to his body, mind, and spirit. He felt the dissipating pain of the wounds in his shoulder and leg, and remembered Dooku.

_Dooku…_

He shunted that thought into Force, forcing himself to focus _outward_, toward Anakin. His mind traveled along the tendrils of their bond, searching for him, calling to him, looking for any hint of his Padawan's presence.

_(Anakin! Anakin, where are you? Anakin!)_

He met with a wall of shields.

_(Anakin, please. Let me help you.)_

If Anakin did not respond, Obi-Wan would be faced with a difficult decision. Luminara had shared with him her technique for bypassing Anakin's shields—he had actually been appalled that the Healer had _intentionally_ inflicted so much pain on a patient, even if it had achieved the desired result. _Although, I should not be surprised; she is a _Healer_, after all. Inflicting pain seems to be their specialty_, he thought sarcastically.

He tried again, pleading with Anakin, exacting more pressure at the shields, feeling some give in, only to find others building up. He tried all of the usual tricks; an image of Padme, a plate of pancakes, even a green speeder-sick Obi-Wan, which almost _always _worked to let Anakin's guard down. Instead, Obi-Wan felt his frustration grow with each block Anakin put up. _Oh, come on, Anakin! I don't want to hurt you! _

_(Padawan, I want to help you. Please. You must let me in.)_

----

Floating on his back, Anakin tried to block out the insistent tugs at the edge of his consciousness. He didn't want to remember, he didn't want to feel. But Qui-Gon's voice kept playing over and over in his mind. _"Do not force this unwanted solitude on the one who has always been by your side… you cannot avoid your duty nor your destiny…" _

With a sudden flash of anger, he righted himself, slapping the water in frustration. Damn the Force! He didn't ask for this "destiny." _Obi-Wan doesn't need me—what use does he have for such a failure of a Padawan? He never wanted me—he only took me because of Qui-Gon._

_But who would you have been without Obi-Wan? _he thought to himself._ The Council would never have accepted you—they would have sent you back to Tatooine._

_(Padawan, please, I want to help you…)_

His master's voice shot through his mind, a bright and comforting presence that cast all other thoughts into shadow. Despite himself, he heard his own voice call out to that light.

(_Master?) _

No. No! He floundered in the water, his right arm weakening again. How could his Master have found him? _I can't face him, I can't. I don't want to see that disappointed look in his eyes, the one he always has for me. Only this time, what I've done is so much worse. I can't, I can't…_

He let out an aggravated growl, then dove down, down into the water, trying to escape the voices, the memories, the…feelings.

---

_(Master?)_

Obi-Wan heard Anakin, but before he could respond, he felt stronger, darker shields slam into place, effectively erasing any progress he'd made in reaching Anakin. With great alarm, he sensed the muted dimness that started to surround Anakin's Force-signature. Anakin was moving away, so far away, and Obi-Wan feared he'd never reach him. _(Anakin, no! Anakin!) _He began to panic, his mind pounding relentlessly against every one of Anakin's shields.

_(Anakin, let me in! Let me help you!)_

With a heavy heart, the Master realized he'd have to do something he'd never had to resort to before: he'd have to _break_ Anakin's shields. He'd be breaking one of the most solemn vows he had ever made to his Padawan, one that Anakin might never forgive. But it would be worth it; he only hoped it would be enough. Following Anakin's Force-signature, and utilizing the strength of their bond, Obi-Wan _pushed_ with all he had, demanding entry through the shields of his Padawan.

In the chair, Obi-Wan's entire body went rigid with the effort, his face twisting into a mask of agony as their minds collided.

---

A fire burned through Anakin's mind, hotter and brighter than any burn he'd ever received from a blaster or sabre. The pain was so intense, so overwhelming, that it momentarily caused all body functions to cease. He found himself deep in the darkness of the water, mouth open, choking as the water he had sought relief in now poured into his lungs. His chest burned and vision blurred.

_Master…why?…you promised…you promised…_

_---_

In the next instant, Obi-Wan found himself standing on the edge of a large lake, remarkably similar to the one outside Anakin's room. The pain of breaching Anakin's shields still throbbed through his mind, but he forced himself to brush it aside—he had to concentrate. _What is this place?_ Instinctively, his gaze traveled across the water, and his breath caught in his chest.

Anakin was out there.

Anakin was drowning.

Without a second thought, not even to remove his boots, Obi-Wan launched himself into the water, calling out for his Padawan as his swift strokes cut through the water.

"ANAKIN! _ANAKIN!_ I'm here, hold on, hold on!"

Terror ripped through his every fibre as he saw Anakin slip under the surface.

"Anakin, NO!"

Obi-Wan kicked harder, pulled harder, until he reached the spot where Anakin had been. He pushed his long wet hair out of his eyes as he looked around frantically, his chest heaving for air, but there was nothing. "Anakin!" he called out desperately.

_(Anakin!)_

He took a deep breath, and dove under the surface, his eyes and his mind searching hysterically for any sign of his apprentice, his partner, his brother. _My brother_, he thought, his heart breaking just a bit. _He's so much more than that. I cannot fail him again. I cannot lose him._

His eyes were stinging from the water, his lungs burning from the lack of oxygen, as he swam deeper. Out of the murkiness, he spied the shadow of a figure. Anakin was sinking, down, down into the dark abyss.

_(Anakin, look at me. I'm here! Anakin, please, please…)_

After a frightening moment that seemed to last an eternity, Anakin's eyes opened. He slowly focused on his Master, his face a mix of despair, fear, and torment.

_(Master? no…don't…)_

_(Come with me, Anakin)_, he said, reaching out for his apprentice's hand. The hand Obi-Wan knew, with such sorrow, that wouldn't be there when Anakin left this…place.

_(Anakin, please.)_

Anakin closed his eyes again, shaking his head, a movement slowly exaggerated by the water that surrounded them._ (Master, no. It's better this way. Let me go, please just let me go!)_

Spots began to dance in front of Obi-Wan's eyes as his body cried out for oxygen. But his heart and mind cried out for Anakin.

_(Anakin, I will not leave you here!) _

_(I-I don't want to, I can't, Master. I can't…please, let me go!) _he cried, trying to move away.

Obi-Wan reached again for his Padawan, this time pouring all the love and affection he had for Anakin into their bond. _(Anakin, Padawan, I _know_ you can do this. Listen to me, your Master…please, take my hand.)_

The warmth of his Master's voice, the pained look in his eyes, crumbled the last of Anakin's resistance. He grabbed desperately for Obi-Wan's hand…

----

Bright yellow beams cris-crossed on the cream colored ceiling, leading his eyes toward a multitude of different endpoints on the light blue walls ahead. As he blinked his eyes into focus, he took a deep breath, immediately recognizing the scent that permeated the room. _Naboo…the lake country. But how did I…_

_(Master?) _He called out over their bond, suddenly feeling very confused and very alone.

Obi-Wan's eyes flew open. (_Anakin, I'm here.) _He pushed himself awkwardly out of the chair and leaned over his Padawan's bed. Vibrant blue eyes were waiting for him. _Oh, how I have missed those eyes._ As a great sense of relief spread over him, Obi-Wan uttered a small prayer of gratitude into the Force.

Anakin's voice cracked, dry from weeks of silence. "Master, how… why…?"

"Always with the questions. Hush now, my Padawan. We'll talk later."

Anakin was having a hard time focusing. "Please…stay…"

Obi-Wan smiled and reached over to grasp his hand. "Of course, Anakin. My place is here. With you."


	5. The Path of Thorns

**Disclaimer:** GL & Co. own everything pertaining to the SW universe. I just play and love!

**A/N: **Thank so much for your patience! As the holidays approach, everything just seems to take longer, doesn't it? I appreciate all of your lovely encouraging reviews--it really helps when the words are not cooperating. For those who have inquired, this story _will eventually_ contain some slash, but they have a complicated road to travel to that. I hope you will stick with me and the story. For the slash lovers, I am working on a little PWP to help tide you over, lol! Look for it very soon!

I must once again heap copious amounts of lovies on my dear beta and Jedi Twin, Xtine. Thanks for keeping me going hug. I upped the angst just for you, darling!

* * *

**  
Chapter 5: The Path of Thorns**

"**_I knew you wanted to tell me; in your voice there was something wrong.  
But if you would turn your face away from me, you cannot tell me you're so strong…" _**

--S. McLachlan, _The Path of Thorns _

The morning light cut across the room, slowly illuminating the decadent trimmings that made up the space, the different shades of blue changing over from dark to light, just like the morning sky. The light cast playful shadows on everything it touched, figures that danced about with each movement of the curtains that were caught by the soft breeze.

When the light and the shadows reached Obi-Wan, he hardly noticed. Time had become irrelevant; two minutes or two days could have passed since he had found Anakin. He didn't care. It hurt too much to think, to move, or to _feel_.

He sat in numb silence at his Padawan's bedside, staring unfocused at the rise and fall of Anakin's chest as he slumbered. Anakin had fallen asleep almost instantly after asking his Master to stay. As exhausted as he was, sleep would not come to Obi-Wan, for he could not bring himself to let go, to close his eyes, to _relax_. There could be no relaxing; there was too much pain.

In some corner of his mind, he understood his body was crying out, demanding sleep and healing. He knew he was overdue for a new bacta patch; the wounds on his leg and shoulder had begun their rhythmic drumbeat in time with his heart again. But the pain in his body was really a mere nuisance, a physical trial to be endured. No, the worst of the pain stabbed both his mind and his heart with thousands of white-hot daggers whenever he tried to reach out to Anakin over their bond. Or rather, what remained of their bond.

It made him physically ill, knowing that _he _was responsible for damaging the thread that connected his mind so intricately— _intimately_, as Luminara had said— with Anakin's. He tried again, reaching out along that tendril, hoping… , only to be rewarded with a forceful crash into shields that rocked him back in the chair and a pain so intense it brought stinging tears to his eyes. He bit his lip and rolled his eyes to the ceiling, trying to _not_ feel the pain, but knowing fully he _deserved_ to feel every bit of that pain.

_If only I could have spared you this agony, Anakin. I would take it all myself, if only I could._

So he sat, motionless, gaze unwavering, in the deafening silence that had become his mind. He wondered idly if the silence was better with or without being in Anakin's presence. Either way, he realized that for the first time since Qui-Gon's death, he was truly alone.

_Alone. You are all alone, and it is all your doing, Obi-Wan_. You _did this._

Obi-Wan forced the thought away, burying it deep down with all of his other fears and anxieties. If he let it, those feelings would drown him now, and that was a selfish luxury he could not afford. He was alone, but he would not allow that to be Anakin's fate. He would be here when Anakin woke up. He was Anakin's Master; it was his responsibility to tell Anakin the horrible truth, even if Obi-Wan could barely face it himself.

In the meantime, before Anakin woke and was forced to face a reality from which his mind had already tried to escape, Obi-Wan would sit by his side, memorizing Anakin in this moment, the last bit of his Padawan's innocence. If he looked carefully, framing his vision just right, he could ignore what was missing from the picture. He could ignore that Anakin had been changed forever; that the _boy_ he had trained was gone. He could ignore, for a little while longer, that his Padawan was going to wake up and look at his Master with hurt, loathing, and betrayal in his eyes. All because Obi-Wan had been overconfident, slow, and simply not good enough to find another way. He should have been able to save Anakin from Dooku, from the Force itself, without destroying a part of Anakin in the process.

"_You must let go of the past and focus on the here and now, my Obi-Wan,"_ Qui-Gon's gentle reprimand sounded in his mind.

"Oh, Master, I don't know if I can do that," he whispered into the silence, as a solitary tear trickled down his cheek.

----

"Obi-Wan! _Haja!_ What has happened?" Luminara rushed into Anakin's room, her enormous blue eyes wide with fright and concern. "I felt the disturbance as though I was right here with you. Are you all right?"

Obi-Wan said nothing as he sat impassively in the chair, staring at Anakin. She rushed over to him, shaking him gently when he didn't respond. "Obi-Wan, answer me. Obi-Wan!" she said forcefully, grabbing his chin and turning his face up to hers.

Tears were evident in his eyes, eyes that reflected a mix of relief, regret, and shock. "I found him, Luminara. I found him and brought him back," he said in a quiet, flat voice, as though he were afraid that by saying the words aloud it would not be true.

Luminara walked over to Anakin's bedside and placed an experienced hand over his forehead, partially closing her eyes in concentration. She reached out with the Force, finding his Force-signature blazing bright now, so unlike the muted glow it had had just a few hours ago. But still…it was somehow different.

Her Healer's sense probed further, finding a very strong, but frayed, tendril. As she followed the tendril, she quickly came up against his shields, shields that were locked in place, stronger than she had encountered before in him. His mind was not going to allow her in this time. And as she had suspected, given the intensity of the disturbance she had felt in the Force, his shields in that spot were marked by what she could only liken to a deep bruise. She bowed her chin to her chest briefly, murmuring a soft curse, and turned to Obi-Wan. "You broke through his shields, didn't you?" She asked without any hint of sanction nor condemnation.

Obi-Wan stared off with slightly unfocused eyes. "Yes," he answered distantly, dully. His hands began to twist restlessly with the folds of his robe. "Yes, I did the one thing I _swore_ I would never do."

Luminara nodded with understanding. It was a difficult decision for any Master to make, though most Masters eventually resorted to using the technique, finding it a necessary form of discipline during a Padawan's adolescence. Given her difficulty in getting past Anakin's shields, only to find he would not listen to her, Luminara had warned Obi-Wan that a shield-breach might be the only way to reach Anakin. He had insisted that he would not do it, _could not_ do it.

She moved over to him, kneeling down next to him. Placing a hand on his shoulder, she offered up a sympathetic look. "Obi-Wan, I am truly sorry. But I know you did not do it recklessly or with malice; I'm sure you had run out of options. You did what you had to do to save your Padawan. He is here, now, because as his Master and his friend, you had the courage to make that decision."

He shook is head almost imperceptibly, his eyes reflecting the deep remorse he felt. "He will never understand that, Luminara. I know Anakin, maybe better than he knows himself. He will not forgive me for breaking my promise." He slowly moved his gaze back to Anakin, his voice a pained whisper. "Loyalty is non-negotiable for him; betrayal unforgivable. I may have saved him, but I fear that in doing so, I have lost him."

Luminara stood and straightened her robes, blowing a frustrated breath out of her pursed lips. "Anakin is no longer a child, Obi-Wan. He has been a Padawan for ten years and knows the difficult decisions a Jedi faces _every day_. He made his decisions, you made yours." She paused for the briefest of seconds, then continued in a softer tone. "He will understand. It will take time and healing, my friend, but he will understand."

She placed her hand on his forehead, surveying his medical and emotional states with her Healer's sense. _Force, but he's a wreck_, she couldn't help thinking. His body was still fighting off an infection from his sabre wounds, he was physically and emotionally exhausted, and just like in Anakin, she spied the same frayed tendril that was their Force-bond. By breaking Anakin's shields, he had also damaged the bond they shared. Luminara was confident she would be able to guide the two Jedi in repairing their bond; she had spent enough time with them to see the utter devotion they had to each other. _And the love. Complicated, but there is love_, she thought to herself. _Maybe now they will see it for themselves._

"Obi-Wan, please. You must rest. Your body needs— ,"

"No, Luminara." His voice was quiet, but deadly firm. His eyes did not stray from Anakin.

"My friend, please listen— ," she tried again.

"No. My place is here. He asked me to stay. I can at least honour _that_ request."

She tried a different approach. Yes, it was a bit manipulative, but one had to be when dealing with the Order's most defiantly stubborn patient. _If he won't do it for himself…_

"Obi-Wan, do you really want to be unconscious from a number of ailments, the least of which is the infection you're fighting, and not be able to be here when Anakin wakes? Would you like me to be the one to tell him that you _neglected_ your own care and now cannot be there for _him_?" He cast his eyes downward, unable to respond.

She stood tall and used her best "Healer" voice, stern, pompous, with just a hint of threatening. "Obi-Wan, if you persist in not caring for yourself, you leave me no other choice but to contact the Council and inform them that you are no longer able to care for yourself or your Padawan. I will request permission to sedate you— would you like that?"

He looked up at her, his blue-green eyes wide with shock. _Good. That got his attention. _ Of course, she never had any intention of doing such a thing. She was counting on his devotion to Anakin, and his desire to keep the Council out of his _personal _affairs.

"Luminara, you do not need to make threats. I am handling this, and I am fine. I _will_ stay here, with or without your, or the Council's, permission," he said with a cool, defiant tone.

The Healer was running out of options. All she could do now was appeal to his common sense, if he had any left. "Anakin will be asleep for hours, maybe even the rest of the day. In fact, I plan on putting him into a healing trance before I head to my room to meditate. His body and his mind need to begin the healing process," she said, then looked at him pointedly, "as do yours, Obi-Wan." She squeezed his hand. "My friend, you have done everything you can for him for the time being. Allow yourself to begin _your_ healing so that _you_ are ready when Anakin wakes. Please."

"Luminara, your concern is appreciated, but really, it is unnecessary. I will not leave Anakin. I have to be here when he wakes; I have to be the one to tell him. He deserves that much."

Luminara sighed deeply, her exasperation evident. "Obi-Wan…," she started again, but let the words dry up in the air. It was a battle she knew she could not win. "Well, you know my feelings on the matter. Please, my friend, try to get some rest. Even meditation will help you some."

She went back to Anakin and again placed her hands on his head and chest. Drawing on the Force, she planted a sleep suggestion in his mind, allowing his body to fall into a light healing trance. She let out a deep breath, opened her eyes, and turned to leave the room.

"Luminara?" he asked, not yet moving, not even to face her.

She looked at Obi-Wan. "Yes?"

"I did the right thing, didn't I?" he asked in a small, trembling voice.

Her heart clenched at the torment she heard in his question. "Obi-Wan, you did what you had to do. That is all we can ask of ourselves when we have to make a difficult decision, and it is what must comfort us in the wake of that decision."

He didn't acknowledge her response.

Luminara let out the briefest of sighs and left for her room in the country mansion. She had a feeling she was going to need all the rest she could get.

Obi-Wan felt her go, but couldn't bring himself to say anything else. He noted, with some cynicism, that she hadn't confirmed the morality of what he had done, only the validity. This brought him very little comfort.

With some effort, he brought his hands up to rub at his eyes. _Force, but am I tired. _Somewhere in his tortured mind, Obi-Wan knew that he was running on vapors and desperately needed to rest. _Meditation_, he thought. _I just need to meditate, and I'll be fine_.

He hissed quietly as he leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes, the throbbing in his head becoming a sharp staccato beat until he lay perfectly still again. Carefully, he opened himself to the Force, and found himself falling, falling into its tranquil flow. He felt the soothing caresses smooth over the roughened spots that marked his soul, easing the tenderness of the bruises to his shields. He breathed in deeply as he felt the Force move through him, seeking the shadows that lay within him, bringing them into the healing Light. In a detached way, Obi-Wan felt the Force, and his mind, begin to travel along a familiar and comforting path. The path to Anakin. Warm, familiar memories came to him, allowing his anxieties to be washed away into the current.

He let himself fall further, now fully consumed by the healing embrace of the Force. He hoped the same was true for his sleeping apprentice.

-----

_Anakin could smell the smoky char of his clothing, a stench that burned through his nostrils to rouse him into consciousness. He tried to lift his head, only to moan as every muscle in his body twitched involuntarily. He felt dazed, trying to blink away the confusion, trying to remember what had happened. _

_Dooku. The spark of blue lightning. _

_Through hazy eyes, he watched the flash of two lightsabres, green and red. His vision cleared, and to his horror, revealed his Master, laying on the ground, writhing in pain, a red Sith blade poised to deliver the death blow._

_Without any conscious thought, as though the Force controlled his every action, he felt his body leap through the air, igniting his blade just in time to block the Sith's descent._

_He felt Dooku's amusement, how the Sith Lord loved toying with them, his arrogance dripping from every word. "That was brave of you boy, but foolish. I would have thought you had learned your lesson," the Count sneered at him. _

"_I'm a slow learner," he heard himself growl with overconfidence, as he reached out and ignited the second sabre that had appeared in his hand. From his Master? _

_No time to think. Just act. Move. Prove Dooku wrong. Save his Master._

_He twirled and swung the two blades in perfect precision, again feeling the Force flowing openly through him. He could feel his Master's concern for him through their bond, his worry and his fear and his…pain. _

_In this moment, it proved to be a costly distraction. He stumbled through his footwork, his body starting to slow, unable to compensate for the energy he was expending._

_The Sith knocked one blade from his hand…_

_He only had a fraction of a second to recover his guard…_

_A fraction that was not nearly long enough._

_Pain. There was pain…searing, burning pain…_

_Then, somehow, he was swimming…_

"_Mom!" he heard himself say, not stopping to wonder why she was there. He didn't care, because they were together._

"_Ani, I've missed you. But you have to go back…go back…go back…"_

"_Yes, Anakin, you must follow your destiny." He heard Qui-Gon Jinn's voice._

_He didn't want to go back… He _couldn't _go back…_

_He was swimming again, but the water was so dark…_

_So cold…_

_He was so alone…_

_His right arm started to fail him… _

_Just like he had failed his Master…_

"_Master! Master help me, please! I need you," he heard himself crying out, sounding no better than a young Padawan._

_The water had become deeper, swallowing him into the darkness…_

_He felt it stealing his breath away, and he didn't care anymore…_

_A shocking pain exploded in his mind; water poured into his lungs…_

_He was drowning…_

_It was better this way…I failed my Master…_

_I'm the Chosen One… chosen for failure… never meant to be a Jedi…_

"_No, no, Master. Please. Let me go," he heard himself say over their bond. _

_Obi-Wan was there now, reaching out for him._

_He heard his Master asking him to take his hand, to go back…_

"_I can't," he heard himself cry, "I can't, I can't…"_

Anakin woke with a start, gasping for air, his eyes flitting back and forth in an attempt to get his bearings. He was all too familiar with the experience. _A nightmare. It was just a nightmare,_ he told himself, closing his eyes while he reached into the Force to calm his breathing.

Only when he opened his eyes, and he looked around this fancy room that could only be of Padme's design, did the cold hand of dread start to creep around his heart. Pieces of his nightmare beckoned in his mind, trying to tell him something he knew he did not want to hear. Still groggy from sleep, his eyes wandered slowly across the ceiling catching the shadows dancing overhead, then followed the light out to the waving tree branches just beyond the double doors.

His focus moved to his bed, white and pristine, reminding him somehow of the Healer's Ward in the Temple. He saw the covers had been pulled up high, although he wore no sleep shirt. Edges of what appeared to be bacta patches on his chest peeked out from under the sheet. _Was I injured? Why am I here?_ Across his chest lay what appeared to be a Padawan braid, but it couldn't be his, could it? It was much too long, and yet…it had all the same accolades as those he had earned. He frowned with confusion.

A gust of wind blew the curtains in, capturing his curiosity when he felt the breeze catch in his…hair?

_What in the Force…? _

In the second it took him tell his mind to convey the message that he wanted to lift his right arm to touch his head, the nightmare came roaring back into his consciousness…

"_No…NO!_ " he began to scream, as he tried to sit up, falling back helplessly over and over as he found no way to support the right side of his body. His mind began swirl, as images from his nightmare, now his terrifying reality, came crashing down on him.

_The fight with Dooku._

_How he went rushing in, sabre blazing, cavalier and arrogant._

_Being tossed like a youngling's toy across the hangar._

_His Master, hurt and nearly killed._

_Rushing in again, overconfident, into the fray._

_Dooku mocking him, his blade impossibly fast._

_Screams. Never ending screams._

_He realized the screams were coming from his own mouth._

"_NO…NO…NO!"_

Obi-Wan was forcefully yanked from his healing meditation, assailed by the sounds of Anakin screaming, the sight of his Padawan convulsing in his bed with the effort of sitting up. He struggled out of the chair to Anakin's side, ignoring the protests of his leg. He grabbed Anakin by the shoulders, easing him back on the pillows, whispering soothing words to calm him, as he had the countless number of times he had comforted Anakin after one of his nightmares.

"Anakin. _Anakin!_ Shhh… shhh… Anakin, it's all right, it's all right," he said quietly, but firmly, holding Anakin's face in his palms. "Anakin, look at me."

Anakin was wild-eyed with fear, his eyes darting around the room, barely able to focus on Obi-Wan. "Master? Master?"

"Yes, Anakin, I'm here, shhh…" Obi-Wan said, lightly rubbing Anakin's cheek, then taking his hand to brush the sweat-dampened curls off the younger man's flushed forehead. It cut Obi-Wan to his core to see that look in Anakin's eyes. The terror and the fear. The lost innocence.

_I'm so sorry, my Padawan. I'm so sorry that you have to carry the burden of my failures. _Coming back to himself, Obi-Wan took his hands away from his Padawan's face, a part of him uneasy with the affectionate gestures he found himself giving Anakin so freely.

Anakin strained to sit up again, grunting from the effort, but to no avail. He looked at his Master helplessly and felt the unwanted tears spring to his eyes. He began to shake his head in denial.

"No…Master, no…," he said in a voice so broken that it tore out a piece of Obi-Wan's heart. "Dooku, he- he… tell me he didn't, Master. Tell me he didn't take my arm." His eyes were begging Obi-Wan not to tell him any differently. To laugh and then reprimand him for once again jumping to conclusions. "Please, Master….please," he whispered desperately.

Anakin felt the bile rising higher and higher in his throat with each moment that his Master hesitated. He didn't want to see the sadness, the _pity_ in Obi-Wan's eyes, but it was there. He could feel it through their bond, and he could hear it in his Master's voice when he said, "Yes, Anakin, he did. I'm so sorry."

Anakin shut his eyes, willing away the words, the look on Obi-Wan's face.

_I lost my arm. _

_I don't have my _right_ arm. _

_I have no hand, no fingers, no…arm._

His mind stole to all the things one did with an arm. With a hand and fingers. Things like eating or writing or katas or sabre practice…

_By the fucking stars, _no_. Please no. Not my sabre arm…_

"Master, I- I lost my sabre arm. Oh, Sith, Master, I lost my sabre arm," he said, his voice alarmingly quiet as he turned his head to look out the doors. Obi-Wan knew how much Anakin's identity as a Jedi was tied to his lightsabre skills. He was, simply, the best of the best with the weapon.

"Anakin. Listen to me. You will _always_ be a Jedi." He tried to reassure Anakin, but he knew his Padawan's pride too well.

He turned to his Master, realizing that the whole conversation had become twistedly amusing. "A Jedi's lightsabre is his life, Master. How many times have you told me that?" He gave Obi-Wan a smile that held no mirth. He bit out a harsh laugh. "How can I be a Jedi if I can't even hold a lightsabre? Fucking Sith, I have no _arm_, Master!"

"I know, Anakin," Obi-Wan said quietly, alarmed at the tone Anakin had taken, as though it was one of their many madcap misadventures. _Oh, how I wish it was, Padawan._ He could feel the hysteria building within Anakin, his desperation and fear threatening to overcome his Padawan. "But it does not make you any less of a Jedi, nor the Force run any weaker in you. You will be able to—"

"Master, are you looking at me? I don't have a _fucking arm_!" He laughed harder, his body shaking, even though the look in his eyes grew darker and more distraught with each passing moment.

Obi-Wan tried not to grimace as he sat on the edge of the bed, his leg protesting vigorously from the unexpected compression. He tried his best to put a comforting, yet stern and "masterly" tone to his voice. _The last thing Anakin needs is an emotional outburst from his injured and pathetic Master. _

"Yes, my Padawan. You have lost a limb, but you have survived, Anakin. Unfortunately, we- we did not fare well against Count Dooku." He looked down, absently smoothing out a wrinkle only he could see. He couldn't bear to look into Anakin's eyes, afraid of the condemnation he was sure to find.

Anakin noticed that his Master couldn't even look at him. _You've failed him again, Chosen One. He can't even look at you, after what you've done. Obi-Wan is the perfect Jedi, and _you_ never will be. You never have, and you never will be, good enough for him. You're damaged goods now. Someone to be pitied, not loved. _

Anakin felt the rush of anger flare to life within him, a red veil that descended across his vision, blocking out all other thoughts and feelings. It was easier to retreat to that familiar, comforting, smothering blanket of anger. A choked laugh came out of Anakin's mouth as it twisted into a scowl. "Really? What would ever make you say that? I mean, I'm only missing my _arm_!" came the sarcastic reply.

"Anakin, don't. Don't do this." Obi-Wan turned away, unable to face the anger he felt swirling around Anakin's Force-signature. He reached out along their bond, attempting to soothe Anakin's anger, his grief, his— . Without warning, Anakin's shields slammed into place, forcing Obi-Wan out.

"Don't you dare! Don't you even try, _Master_!" Anakin's eyes sparked with anger and resentment.

"Anakin— "

"No." His voice became icy. "I _remember_, Master. I remember _everything._"

Obi-Wan turned slowly, finding his eyes locked with Anakin's, deep blue orbs filled with hurt and accusations.

"I know what you did, what you _promised _me you would never do. Don't stand here and pretend you care about me. You never have. Master, you _promised_!" he said, his voice breaking.

"I know Anakin. I'm…sorry. But I- I have a responsibility for you. I'm your Master… you nearly died… " he trailed off, choking on the last words. _It would have been more than I could bear, my Padawan._

Anakin glared at him. "Did you _ever _stop to think that's _what I wanted_? I was happy— my mother was there, did you know that?" he yelled. "I didn't even get to say goodbye!" His eyes narrowed, his hurt and anger consuming him now. "Of course not." He tossed his hand into the air in frustration. "I'm just a Padawan. Never mind that I _lost my arm_—you just felt it was a good time to _violate_ my mind?"

The accusation felt like a sharp kick to his ribs, knocking the breath from him with its intensity. "No, of course not! Anakin, you were lost for two weeks; the Healers could not reach you," He held out his hands, imploring Anakin to understand. "The Force had taken you so far away… I tried everything…I didn't _want_ to do it Anakin! Please believe me— I- I had no other choice. You were _drowning_ in the Force, Anakin, consumed by your own fears and grief and pain," he said, his voice straining from the effort of controlling the emotions that threatened to consume him.

"Don't presume to know how I _feel_ about anything, Master," he said defensively. "Funny, I don't recall you ever caring before. I'm sorry I've been such a _responsibility_, Master. Such a _burden_," he bit out accusingly. "You should have just let me go!"

"Anakin, how can you say that? You're my Padawan. I've been your Master for ten years, for Sith's sake." He ran a nervous hand through his hair, feeling powerless under Anakin's verbal assault. _How can he not know how much I care for him? _The realization rocked him. _Padme was right— Oh Anakin, you have never been a burden, not to me._

"Say what? That it would have been better that I had _died_? Better that than," he gestured to his missing limb, "_this_?"

"Anakin…"

With his left hand, Anakin yanked the covers up over the white sleeve that concealed his shame and rolled over on his side. He didn't want to look at it, feel it, or acknowledge what it was, and what it wasn't, anymore. With his eyes on the far wall, he said in a flat voice, "I want you to leave."

Biting his lip, Obi-Wan lay his hand softly on the younger man's shoulder. "Anakin, please— "

He flinched away from his Master's touch. "Don't. Get out. Now."

The dark, cold words slashed into Obi-Wan's soul. Obi-Wan lifted his hand and let it drop to his side, his shoulders sagging with despair. He found his cane and began shuffling toward the door.

_Oh, Anakin. I never meant to hurt you. I'm sorry, my Padawan, I'm sorry._

He was rewarded only with silence.

---

Anakin listened to his Master leave. When he heard the door close, he took a deep breath, and let it out.

And he began to cry.


	6. The Archive of Our Failure

**Disclaimer: **All is owned by GL and his dynasty. Special acknowlegement to Terry Brooks for the quotes from _The Phantom Menace_ novelization, p. 154.

**TempleMistress says: ** Finally! I truly apologize for the severe lag in chapters--the holidays were extrememly disruptive and I lost my muse for a while, but never fear, she returned! Thank you so much for sticking with me, and for all the words of encouragement.

I hope you enjoy the chapter!

* * *

**Chapter 6: The Archive of Our Failure**

"_**I am the archive of our failure… I'm wound up small and tight  
and I don't know who I am."**_  
--S. McLachlan, _Black and White _

Anakin felt the cool breeze blowing through his hair, drying the tears that still remained on his cheeks. His only movement was that of his chest, rising and falling with each breath. He still lay on his side, his back to the door that separated him from his Master. The door through which, in a screaming rage, he had forced Obi-Wan to leave.

That had been hours ago, and Obi-Wan had not returned.

Anakin was alone.

He was alone and he knew that it was his fault, knew that what had happened to him was all his own doing. His capture at Geonosis, the rescue that resulted in so many dead Jedi, his audacity in rushing in to take on Dooku, the loss of his arm, and the loss of his life as a Jedi. _All _of itwas his fault.

All of it, save one thing.

Since Obi-Wan had left, Anakin had turned over his Master's words every way that he could, but in the end, it was still the same to him. Obi-Wan had broken his promise. It was a promise Anakin had never had to ask him to make, for Obi-Wan had given it freely. It had been a sacred pledge of trust between them, but now, like so many things in Anakin's life, it had been destroyed.

_Anakin stood nearby as his Master argued, loudly, with Master Windu. He knew Master Windu's Padawan, Depa Billaba, was having some problems, but he did not understand why his Master was so concerned. _

_Although shorter than Master Windu, Anakin noted that his Master was no less imposing. Obi-Wan's eyes were narrowed into darkened blue-green slivers, his chin lifted defiantly as his cultured voice lowered into an icy whisper. Anakin stood transfixed, having never seen his Master so…impassioned. It was as exciting as it was unnerving._

"_Mace, you know this is not the only way. You have many alternatives; trust in the Force to bring Depa back to you. Acting in haste is never the Jedi—"_

_Master Windu raised his hand and shook a finger in Obi-Wan's face. "Do not presume to lecture me, Obi-Wan. I will do what I think is best for _my_ Padawan; it is no affair of yours," Master Windu said dismissively. "Mark my words; someday, with that Padawan of yours, you will do the same." The Master Jedi's dark eyes flicked over to Anakin as he approached them. "_Perhaps_ you should have done it already," he said, glaring at Anakin with such distaste, as though he was still a dirty little slave boy rather than a Padawan Learner. Master Windu stalked off in a huff._

"_Master?" Anakin said tentatively, looking up to search Obi-Wan's now-impassive face for answers. "What's wrong?"_

"_It is nothing, young one," he said absently, his focus on Master Windu's retreating back. But Anakin could feel his Master's anger and frustration. It wasn't _nothing.

"_He's going to do it, isn't he? He's going to break Depa's shields?" he asked timidly, his blue eyes wide with anxiety, afraid of the answer. Anakin had heard the older Padawans' whispers of such a thing, how every Master did it to their Padawan at some point; how it was an invasion of privacy at best, a violation of their mind at worst. It scared him that a Master could wield such power over a Padawan._

"_You should not concern yourself with this, Anakin." His Master blew out a frustrated breath through pursed lips. "But yes, he is." _

_In the three years Anakin had been Obi-Wan's apprentice, Anakin had certainly given his Master enough reasons to be angry with him, but never like this. So…_emotional_ and full of disgust. And at Master Windu, who was a respected Council Member and a good friend of Obi-Wan's. _

"_I don't understand. Why would Master Windu do that? I've heard—I've heard that it hurts a lot." Anakin's mouth twisted into a scowl, thinking of the pain Depa would suffer because of Master Windu's actions. "Master, why would any Master want to hurt their Padawan?"_

"_No Master _wants_ to inflict pain on their Padawan, Anakin. But often a Padawan strays so far from the Jedi path that a Master feels that to breach their shields is the only way to correct their behaviour." He turned to Anakin and put his hands on his young Padawan's shoulders, his kind eyes finding Anakin's troubled ones. _

"_I want you to know, Anakin, that _I_ do not share this philosophy. Many Masters, I believe, use this measure in haste, as a shortcut, as a way to 'break' their Padawan. As Jedi we are taught to trust in the Force, to let it guide is, rather than to act in impatience and haste." He paused, his mouth twisting into the disapproving scowl Anakin knew only too well. "I find it…appalling…that this _barbaric_ practice is still endorsed by the Council. It does more harm than good, and does nothing but weaken the Master-Padawan bond."_

_Anakin bit his lip. He didn't want to ask, but he blurted out the question anyway. "Master, about what Master Windu said to you about me— are you going to— have you wanted— ?"_

_Obi-Wan smiled warmly, but his eyes were serious. "No, my Padawan. Master Windu is… misguided, and he is no more your Master than I am Depa's. Anakin, you have my word that I will _never_ breach your shields. Should the day come when that seems to be the only alternative, I will find another way. I promise you that." He put his arm around Anakin's shoulders, pulling him close. "You are my Padawan and I am your Master; I want you to be able to trust me. I value our relationship too much to harm it so needlessly."_

_Then why, Master, why did you do it?_ Anakin wondered with a disconsolate sigh.

Anakin had been so angry with him before Obi-Wan left, but the anger had since subsided. Now it was a deep, persistent ache that swelled in intensity each time his mind, out of long habit, unconsciously brushed against the bond he shared with his Master. But he just could not bring himself to open the link and allow Obi-Wan access. It still hurt him too much that Obi-Wan had violated his mind. When Obi-Wan had made that promise to his Padawan, Anakin had truly felt for the first time that his Master was different from all the other Masters. Obi-Wan was more than his Master; he was Anakin's best friend, his brother, his…_everything._

Anakin swallowed hard. Sometime during the last year, as the Republic moved closer to war and they were sent on longer and more dangerous missions, Anakin realized that not only was Obi-Wan the only one he _had_ to count on, he was the only one Anakin _wanted_ to count on.

Anakin had always wanted to please Obi-Wan, which had never been easy, but it became almost an obsession to Anakin that Obi-Wan _say _it. Say that he was proud of Anakin, say that Anakin had done well, say that he _cared_ about Anakin. He had worked hard in the last year to prove himself to Obi-Wan, prove that he was worthy of Obi-Wan's care—Sith knew he'd complained enough to Padme about it. She tried to understand, but in the end she simply _couldn't_. She wasn't a Jedi. And Obi-Wan Kenobi wasn't the center of her life, her very existence. Wanting to hear Obi-Wan say he cared about Anakin was what had led Anakin to foolishly rush in to face Dooku.

But admitting that he cared about Anakin would be admitting to an attachment. Jedi did not have attachments, and Obi-Wan was a Jedi. He was, to Anakin, _the_ Jedi. Always.

The ache swelled again, for unlike his Master, Anakin _did _have an attachment to the older Jedi. He knew it was wrong; it had been a constant struggle over the years to keep his feelings, the attachment, hidden from Obi-Wan and the Council. But now, he realized, it didn't matter anymore. He had been betrayed by his best friend and had lost his constant companion of the past ten years. It was a deep wound to his soul that hurt more than the slash of the sabre that had removed his arm.

_Further proof that you're not cut out to be a Jedi, Skywalker._

He closed his eyes, willing his mind to relax. Anakin's mind was exhausted, but peaceful sleep, as always, eluded him. Sleeping would only bring nightmares, and he'd had enough nightmares now to last a lifetime.

The sun had set long ago, and Anakin opened his eyes to watch the slivers of two of Naboo's moons rise past the purple peaks of the mountains on the far side of the lake. He gazed upward, past the moons, to the countless stars in the Nubian sky. Stars he'd once believed he would visit, each and every one of them.

"_There are so many! Do they all have a system of planets?" Anakin asked Qui-Gon._

"_Most of them," Qui-Gon answered._

"_Has anyone been to all of them?"_

_Qui-Gon laughed. "Not likely."_

_Anakin nodded, still looking up. "I want to be the first one, then, the first to see them all!"  
_

Anakin felt fresh tears begin to fall as the memory faded away. He had been only nine then, when Qui-Gon had appeared and turned his life upside down, pulling him out of slavery and setting him on the path the Jedi Master was so sure was Anakin's destiny. For as long as he could remember, Anakin had had vivid dreams, premonitions that he would be a Jedi and carry a lightsabre. His mother had let him go willingly, wanting a better life for him than that of a slave. Anakin had watched her die in his arms, his Jedi abilities not nearly good enough to save her in time. Qui-Gon had forsaken his reputation and died believing Anakin was the "Chosen One" of Jedi prophecy. Obi-Wan, forced into being Anakin's Master, had spent his entire adult life in the service of training Anakin to _be _a Jedi.

With one swift strike of a deadly crimson lightsabre, it had all abruptly ended, and Anakin had become the archive of their failures.

He winced, feeling pain tickling down his arm to the fingers of his right hand; fingers that were no longer there. He'd had twinges of feeling— enough to make him look down a couple of times— that deluded him each time into thinking that it was all some terrible nightmare, a mistake. Instead, he found that it _was_ indeed a nightmare, but there had been no mistake.

He didn't look this time; he'd stopped looking hours ago. His arm was gone, and along with it the dreams and hopes of so many; his mother, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, but most of all, himself. A life as a Jedi was the only life he'd known for the past ten years, and the only one he had ever wanted.

Scrunching his eyes shut, he drew in a deep breath, summoning the Force to calm himself, willing the tears to stop. He felt the Force enter him, wrapping around him like a familiar comforting blanket. As he released the breath, he opened his now tearless eyes. _Crying like a youngling is not the Jedi way. I am a Jedi._

The errant thought made his heart ache with loss.

"Well, I _was_ a Jedi," he said desolately to the air, his eyes rolling toward the ceiling.

"And you still are, young one."

Anakin startled at the melodious, soothing voice that could only be Master Luminara Unduli's, but he did not roll on to his back to face her.

"Hello, Anakin. It is good to see you awake, and in this world, I might add." Luminara approached the edge of the bed, hearing him sigh deeply.

"Master, please. With all respect, I'd like to be left alone." He flinched as she reached out and touched his right shoulder, gently rolling him on to his back to face her.

Anakin refused to meet her eyes, his mouth twisting into a scowl, his upper body taut with tension. He pulled away from the touch, reaching up with his left hand to pull the blankets higher over the white sleeve that covered what remained of his arm.

_He is about what I expected—angry, afraid, ashamed. _Luminara pressed her lips together firmly, trying to decide on the best way to approach Anakin, the best way to help begin the trial of his healing process. _Oh young one, it may not seem like it now, but you will be whole again._ She suspected that, like his Master, Anakin would respond best if she was direct with him.

"Anakin, I'm here as your Healer, and as your Healer, I will need to check your wounds to be sure they are healing properly." She laid a hand on his right arm. "_All_ of your wounds," she said, looking into his turbulent blue eyes.

Mustering up what little bravado he had left, Anakin removed her hand from his arm. "I'm fine, Master. Nothing a little bacta can't fix, right?" he tried to quip, but his voice broke near the end and he looked away, his eyes glistening.

Luminara walked over to a small table next to the bed and turned on the lamp. "Anakin, please. Let me examine you. You have been healing well, and yes, the bacta has helped, but I want to ensure that there is no lasting damage."

_Lasting damage?_ Anakin thought bitterly. "No. Not right now, Master. I- I _can't_. Please, just leave me alone," he said, the anger in his voice masking any other emotion.

But Luminara was a Master Healer. It was not difficult to sense the anguish and shame Anakin was feeling, even as he tried to hide it from her. It was a common reaction among injured Jedi— particularly Padawans, who were stunned by their first brush with mortality. With Anakin, there was more than just the pain from the injuries and the shame from his failure. There was… a sense of abandonment, of deep loneliness, and…_regret_. More than anything, there was regret. She sighed inwardly, recognizing the emotion, for it was much the same feeling that she'd sensed from Obi-Wan.

"All right, Anakin. I will respect your wishes, but I will return later this evening." She had decided to leave, understanding that Anakin needed more time to process his emotions if she were to have any impact as his Healer.

Anakin's voice was ragged when he spoke. "Master Luminara, what happened to me?"

Surprised by the question, she turned to face him, her head tilting just a bit. "What do you remember, young one?" It would be better for Anakin's healing if he recovered the memories on his own.

Anakin had a far-away look on his face, his eyes focused out the double doors towards the mountains. "Bits and pieces—stuff that only seems to come in nightmares, and now I'm not sure what is a bad dream and what really happened." He closed his eyes briefly. In a small voice he continued, "I know I lost my arm to Dooku, but only because of my nightmare and because…" he swallowed hard, "Obi- my Master- told me so. But I don't remember much that happened before and after that." He turned his face to Luminara. "Please Master, why do I need all this bacta? What _happened_?"

Luminara couldn't help but feel her heart clench when the young Jedi looked at her with such sadness. The young man had always had a special place in her heart, simply for his carefree attitude and the emotions that, try as he might, he wore on his sleeve, much to the chagrin of the stuffy and unfeeling Jedi Council. Perhaps most importantly, she could see how happy and alive Anakin had made her dear friend Obi-Wan feel in the time since Qui-Gon's death. They were good for each other. _If only they can move beyond this—together._

"Anakin, I- I think this is a conversation you should have with your Master. Obi-Wan was there, while I was not. He would know best—"

Anakin's eyes flashed with anger. "Know best? He does _not_ know what best is! Certainly not for me. Master, please, just tell me!"

She held up her hand to quiet his protests. "All right, all right. Prior to the loss of your arm, you were hit with a burst of Force-lightning, enough to knock you unconscious for an indeterminate amount of time. This caused an overload in the electrical impulses of your muscles and when you eventually regained consciousness, you were momentarily able to continue in your duel. Once the adrenaline was spent, I can only assume you tired quickly and your muscles soon gave out." Her voice became softer, sympathetic. "You would have been unable to defend yourself for long against an attack, Anakin. The amputation of your arm resulted in a catastrophic failure of your entire system, knocking you immediately unconscious."

Luminara watched Anakin's reaction carefully. It was obvious the Padawan had little memory of the circumstances of his injuries.

Anakin had turned to stare at her, not really believing a word. Force-lightning, losing consciousness in the middle of a duel? "How-how long was I unconscious the second time?"

"Two weeks. Senator Amidala brought you here immediately from Geonosis. You spent the first week in bacta."

"Why here? Why not the Temple?"

Luminara eyes shifted away for a moment. "That is something you'll need to discuss with the Senator and your Master. But be assured, Anakin, that the healers here did all that they could for you. Your body was healing adequately, but for some reason you remained in the Force-coma and I was called in. "

Anakin mulled this over, trying to reconcile her words with the snippets of memory he had along with the nightmares. He shook his head slightly. Things still did not add up.

"Force-coma?"

"Yes. Between the Force-lightning, the strain of the duel, and the sudden amputation, the shock effectively shut down your body. Anakin, a series of severe traumas like this would likely have killed an ordinary man, and most Jedi. I believe the phenomenal number of midichlorians you have took you into the Force to heal. I've seen this happen with other Jedi, but not to the depth and degree of your Force-coma."

"I-I remember parts of that, but I thought it was a dream. I was…swimming," he smiled at the memory, looking out the window, "in that lake. My mom was there…and…" he paused, shaking his head slightly. "Qui-Gon! Master Jinn was there, too. I really talked to them? It wasn't just a dream?" He sat up slightly, his eyes wide with surprise and bewilderment.

Luminara smiled warmly. This was a good sign, that Anakin was remembering, rather than blocking it out.

"Yes, young one, I know. I was there, too." She watched his expression closely.

"You were? I- I don't remember that part." He looked at her puzzled.

"I am not surprised. The Force is very strong in you, Anakin, and it was wrapped about you tightly, protecting you from any further injury or pain, apparently viewing me as a threat in that moment. I could see you, but you could not or would not hear me. You were determined to stay there."

"So how…?" But instantly Anakin knew the answer and wished he had never asked the question, wished he didn't know the answer.

Luminara's eyes were full of empathy. "I think you know, young one," she said softly.

His eyes narrowed into icy slivers, his mouth turned down into a scowl. "_No_…."

"Anakin, I was there. He had no choice, no alternative—"

"There is _always_ a choice! Always an _alternative_!" Anakin roared, his rage pounding at Luminara's shields. As a Healer, she was prepared for such outbursts, but Anakin's sheer strength, his anger, caught her off-guard.

"Padawan! I know you are angry, but you must control yourself—let me help you, Anakin." Luminara reached out with the Force to Anakin, attempting to soothe his anger, to temper his hurt. Her efforts were pushed aside by the young Jedi's impressive anger and strong shields. Undaunted, she did not back down. "Anakin, you must learn to let it go, to accept that what has happened is now in the past. He did what he had to do—"

"_He promised me_!" Anakin's voice thundered, his entire body shaking with his hurt and anger. "You don't understand! He said he would _never_ do that…he promised…he said he would find another way…" His hand struck the bed in frustration, punctuating his words. "He _lied_ to me," Anakin hissed, angry tears shining in his eyes.

And suddenly, Luminara felt Anakin just…shut down. He lay still, tears no longer evident, his breathing calm. He blocked every attempt she made to sense his emotions, to send him healing touches to his mind, even to check over his wounds.

She laid a hand on his shoulder again as he looked away. "I know, young one, I know. It wasn't easy for him, I can tell you that."

"Apparently it was easy enough," he said with a petulant huff. He rolled over to his side, his back to the Healer. "Master, please, I don't want to talk about this. I just want to be left alone. Please, just go."

"Anakin, I understand, but you need to talk about—"

He pulled away from her touch roughly, his voice sharp and full of bitterness. "I said I don't want to talk about this. And I don't need a Healer. I am no longer a Jedi, Master. Haven't you noticed? I'm _missing_ an essential component!"

_Haja, Anakin. So much shame for someone so young, with so much promise._ She reached over the bed, placing her hand on his cheek, sending what little comfort she could get through to him. "Anakin, you will _always_ be a Jedi. What has happened to you is but a trial to be endured. Others have faired much worse and have gone on to be effective Jedi."

She pulled her hand back quickly as he rolled back to face her, a cloud of darkness descending on his normally angelic, boyish features. "A '_trial to be endured'_? I wasn't supposed to be a fucking _effective_ Jedi!" In spite of his rage, he felt the defiant, stinging tears start to run down his face. He swiped at them furiously, his voice beginning to crack with the emotions overtaking him. "I was supposed to be _The Chosen One_! The one to bring balance to the Force! Tell me, how does a one-armed _freak_ who can't even use a lightsabre remain a Jedi and bring balance to anything? I don't think the prophecy called for a _disfigured_ 'Chosen One'!"

Luminara realized that he had had enough for one day; Anakin was too upset now, and she cursed herself for pushing him. She knew she had nothing to fear from Anakin— he wouldn't harm her— but nothing in her career had prepared her for the _depth_ of Anakin's anger, shame, and fear. As much as she cared for him, she knew she had helped him as much as she could, at least for the moment.

_Qui-Gon, you were right about one thing—the one person Anakin needs in order to heal is the one person he fears to face._ Obi-Wan.

She held up her hand in a placating gesture. "Shh, young one. No more anger, no more talk. I will go for now, and return later to check your dressings. Please, try to get some rest— your body, and your mind, need it to heal. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

He didn't answer. She nodded at him slightly and left the room, closing the door behind her.

He lay there for a while, completely embarrassed by his outbursts, at the disrespectful language he used in front of the Master. When Obi-Wan found out he would chastise Anakin, telling to him to—

No. No he wouldn't.

Obi-Wan would never again tell him he was being an impudent child, throwing tantrums and using vulgar language as a way to bully people. He wouldn't let out that tortured sigh of the long-suffering Master, saying that Anakin would be the death of him. Obi-Wan had never been impressed by his anger, preferring just to give Anakin that frustratingly bored "Are you done yet?" look, even rolling his eyes sometimes. Part of Anakin, the part he couldn't control, wished to see that look right now. It would mean nothing had changed, that he was still a Padawan to Obi-Wan Kenobi.

But he wasn't. He couldn't be. After what he had done, and what he had become, there would be no reason for him to be Obi-Wan's Padawan any longer. All Obi-Wan would feel for Anakin now would be disgust, or worse, pity.

Anakin rolled on to his side, and with considerable effort, pushed himself up into a sitting position. He pulled off all his bedcoverings and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his dark blue sleep pants a deep contrast to the white of the linens.

_Force, what am I going to do?_ he thought, as he ran his hand through unfamiliar hair. The breeze blew in through the open doors, chilling his exposed skin and causing his Padawan braid to dance across his chest. He looked down at it as though it was completely foreign.

_It's been recently braided_, he noticed, not only because of its now considerable length, but its general tidy appearance. When Anakin fixed his braid, it was usually no better than when he'd started, his haste and lack of attention to detail readily apparent. Obi-Wan had long ago given up the fight, having muttered something about "picking his battles," whatever that meant. Padme, ever fussing about all things pertaining to hair, _hated_ how messy Anakin let it get. She had even threatened to hold him down and do it herself, but they'd run out of time on the way to Geonosis.

_Padme…_of course. She would have been the one to do it, but where was she now? This was her house, on her world. She was likely back on Coruscant, doing her Senatorial duties. He missed talking with her; she had always been a good listener, and would undoubtedly take his side, even if she couldn't understand. He let out a half-laugh, thinking about what she must have thought of his "new" hair. She had never been fond of what she called the "Padawan Hack," insisting that her blind gardener could have come up with something better.

Anakin toyed absently with the braid as he stared out into the darkness at the mountains, his fingers pausing over every coloured band that marked his life as a Padawan.

_But I'm not a Padawan anymore_, he thought bitterly, _I should just cut the damn thing off. _

He slid off the edge of the bed with a grunt, his body awkward and unbalanced now without his arm. His legs, weak from inactivity, felt slow and stiff as he shuffled barefoot across the light blue carpet to the 'fresher room. He waved his hand casually, using the Force to flick on the lights. Like everything she touched, the room reflected Padme's class and cultured tastes. The room was white with ebony accents, the fixtures all carved from an expensive marble shipped all the way from Dantooine. Anakin didn't care, as long as the 'fresher worked.

The intricately designed tiles on the floor felt cool under his feet as he padded across the room. Passing the mirror, he was startled by the face that was reflected back at him, one he hardly recognized. His hair was overgrown, wild with blonde highlighted curls he didn't remember ever having. Moving his face from side to side, his hand went to his chin, noting the soft, fine-coloured whiskers that had grown haphazardly on his chin into a soft fuzz. Even at 19, Anakin had hardly ever had much need to shave, so even this seemed like some kind of an improvement there. Dark circles under his eyes were the only colour on a decidedly pale face that was sprinkled with light pink scars in the last stages of healing.

His eyes traveled down to his chest, noting several large bacta patches that covered some kind of…_burns_? _Probably from the Force-lightning_, he guessed._ Stars, you really did it this time, didn't you? _he thought to himself, turning to the left to look at his back. Turning to his left, however, brought the right side of his body front and center on the mirror.

He stood there, stock still, for the longest moment, staring at the white fabric that covered his arm—or more precisely, what was left of his arm.

_Just do it. Look at it. _Look_ at it, you coward! See who you really are now!_

Growling, he frowned and consciously looked away as he carefully pulled the while sleeve off of his right arm. His heart beat wildly, his hand shaking as he let the fabric fall to the floor. He closed his eyes, trying to center himself, trying to find the strength to look at what he so desperately did not want to acknowledge.

Forcing his eyes open, he slowly raised his head, looking at his new physique.

He choked on a half-laugh, feeling the nauseous hysteria he had felt earlier with Obi-Wan rising to the surface. It was the strangest thing, to see that half his arm, something that had been a part of him for his whole life, missing, like some kind of sick Jedi mind-trick.

_If it is gone, why do I still_ feel _it? _he wondered, reaching over with his left hand to touch the healing skin tenderly. He winced, more from the oddity of feeling his arm end at the elbow, rather than any true physical pain. He gingerly moved the arm, relieved to find that the shoulder worked just fine, although there was no reason why it shouldn't. He felt the hysterical laughter beginning to bubble up in his throat as he thought of Luminara's comment about being an "effective" Jedi.

Anakin felt his eyes burn with unshed tears, his body shaking with the effort of containing both the laughter and the tears. He stared into the mirror. _I don't know who I am anymore. Not a Padawan, not a Jedi, not _whole

_Sith, _he was tired of crying, of feeling weak, helpless. As he ran his hand over his face to calm himself, a flicker of movement caught his eye. There was his Padawan braid again, long and strong, mocking him with its very presence. It was an irritating reminder of all that he had been and all that he could never be now.

His eyes narrowed, his anger now having a focus. Opening the cabinet, he rooted around for a scissors, clippers, _anything_ to remove the offensive memento. The entire contents of each shelf were flung with abandon, bandages, toothpaste, and lotions strewn about the floor. Using the most vulgar Huttese curses that came to mind, he started in on the drawers next to the sink, finally rewarded with a small set of manicure scissors.

With a grim look, his jaw set stubbornly, yet with deep sadness in his eyes, he opened the scissors and let the braid fall between its jaws. Anakin closed his eyes, his hand beginning to tremble as he slowly squeezed the jaws together. _It should have been my Master doing this. At my Knighting. Not here, not like this…_

He hadn't counted on the fact that the scissors were for a right-handed person. He fumbled again with his left hand, trying to get the right angle, but the braid was too thick and the scissors too dull, leaving the braid firmly attached. _"Fucking Sith Hell!"_ he swore, throwing them in frustration across the room. He closed his eyes, listening to the splintering crash of metal meeting ceramic.

Anakin took a deep breath. Wiping away the insolent tears with the back of his hand, he stumbled out of the refresher. The wind had picked up, blowing the curtains around his room, the moonlight catching the white lace sheers, as though they were some sort of dancing apparitions. Although cold, Anakin made no move towards his bed. He was entranced by the moon's reflection on the lake, how it rippled with the wind, like it, too, was crying for all he had lost. He leaned against the double doors and felt his knees give out as his back slid down the door. Wrapping his arms about himself, Anakin leaned his head against the door frame, cold, alone and lost.

He startled when he felt a warm hand run through his hair, then travel down and wrap itself around his chest.

"As long as I'm here, you'll never be alone, Anakin."

He sighed, leaning back into the warmth the hug provided.


	7. Doesn't Mean Anything At All

I'm back! I present Chapter 7, a full-length trip into Anakin!Angst. I know Padme's not particularly popular with the A/O crowd (me included!), but she has an important role to play in the evolution of Anakin's relationship with Obi-Wan. Don't worry, we'll get back to Obi-Wan in Chapter 8.

I hope the length of the chapter makes up somewhat for the wait! Thanks for reading!

Lovies, as usual, to my beta, **Xtine**. The Jedi Divas agree: rewrites SUCK! Also special thanks to **BrynneEryn** and **Alchemy Dream** for being my cheerleaders, sounding boards, and for simply listening to me whine, whine, whine about this chapter. I love you like WOO!

(says in Mon Mothma voice) Many jars of peanut butter died to bring you this chapter.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 7: Doesn't Mean Anything at All**

**_"You take me in, no questions asked. You strip away the ugliness that surrounds me.  
Are you an angel?…"_**

--S. McLachlan, _Sweet Surrender  
_

"As long as I'm here, you'll never be alone, Anakin."

He sighed deeply, leaning back into the warmth provided by the soft arms encircling him, comforted by the familiarly sweet voice of his oldest friend. _Padmé._ The cool night breeze captured her dark brown ringlets and twirled them about his eyes, lightly caressing his cheeks and drying his tears.

Anakin remembered how, as a lonely nine-year-old slave boy, he'd seen Padmé as an angel, some kind of heavenly apparition of beauty and profound compassion who had come into his life simply because of a bad hyperdrive. Whether it was the will of the Force or dumb luck, he didn't know, but it didn't matter. Even though Anakin had long outgrown his childhood fantasy of a guardian angel, Padmé was more than that to him now; she was the closest he would ever come to having a sister.

Stars, but he had missed her, even if she was sometimes suffocating in her protectiveness. Padmé had watched over him from the moment he'd left Tatooine when he was nine. Even when Anakin had become Obi-Wan's apprentice, she had remained an important part of his life, a point he and Obi-Wan had constantly bickered about over the years. Padmé was always there to listen to him grumble and complain about his Padawan life, and he'd had to beg her on more than one occasion to _not_ walk up to his Master to tell him, in her words, to _"stop being an intractable ass and get off Anakin's back!"_.

After everything that had happened— his complete failures that resulted in both his mother's death and the loss of his arm— Anakin was grateful for that protectiveness right now. Obi-Wan, his teacher and constant companion for 10 years, the one Anakin had thought he could _always_ count on, had betrayed him; he had shown Anakin that he had no use for a less-than-perfect Padawan. Padmé was all Anakin had left now. Turning a little to his side, Anakin burrowed deeper into the arms of his angel.

She leaned her cheek against the side of his head, her lips pressing a comforting kiss to his temple. "Ani, I was so worried about you, so scared that you might not come back to us," Padmé said softly, her voice strung tight with anxiety. "Leave it to you to get me to skip an important Senate meeting. That was your plan all along, I bet. You never have cared much for politics," she joked lightly, trying to hide the sniffle behind it.

Anakin gave a half-hearted shrug but didn't respond. He simply didn't have any laughter left in him, even for her. Peeking through the dancing strands of her hair, he stared out at the moon's reflection on the water as it rippled with the breeze. When the cool air danced across his bare skin, Anakin shivered involuntarily.

Giving him another hug, Padmé let go and patted his shoulder gently. "Come inside, Ani; you're chilled," she urged, in a tone that was both gentle and firm. She went back into the room and turned on a bedside lamp, bringing light to the darkened room that had become Anakin's hiding place. He had grown accustomed to the dark; it suited his mood, allowing him to ignore what the light cruelly demanded he see.

Suppressing another shiver, Anakin looked down to see that he had not only forgotten his robe or a tunic, but that he'd left his wounded limb completely unbandaged and exposed. Instantly self-conscious, Anakin grabbed the blanket off the bed and clumsily wrapped it over his right shoulder and arm. He sat down on the edge of the bed, watching idly as Padmé rummaged through a box of supplies on the night stand.

She caught his eye, her lips twitching up into a nervous smile. "Ani," she began hesitantly, "Master Luminara asked me… well… she asked me if I wouldn't mind…um…changing your dressings for you, and to make sure nothing is infected." Her eyes pointedly traveled down to his covered arm and back to his eyes. "She…she also asked that I make sure your…your arm…is clean and wrapped."

Anakin frowned slightly, his head dropping in shame, chin on his chest. "Padmé, I… I don't… I don't want you to…"

Padmé came over and eased herself on to the edge of the bed next to him. "I— I know it won't be easy for you, Anakin. But listen to me," she pleaded, reaching out and lifting his chin to look into his troubled eyes. "You _need_ to let me do this for you. I can handle it, Ani. And so can you. I don't want you risking a serious infection because you're too proud or too stubborn to allow me to help you," Padmé said in that no-nonsense "Senator voice" of hers. Anakin looked away, nearly rolling his eyes. He _hated_ when she directed it at him; it still made him feel like a little boy.

"No, I'm— I'm fine. Really. Just leave the stuff…I can do it," he said unconvincingly, pulling away from her touch as he tried his best to smile. It never reached his lips, for it wasn't in his heart.

Padmé slowly slid off of the bed, stretching her petite legs for the floor, and headed for the 'fresher room. Calling over her shoulder, she replied decisively, "You aren't _fine_, Anakin, and you can't reach them all yourself, anyways. Let me wash my hands and get a clean cloth…"

Reaching the doorway, Padmé gasped loudly, her hand coming up to cover her mouth, as she surveyed the ravaged state of the 'fresher room. Padmé turned to look at Anakin, wide-eyed, but he didn't meet her gaze. More to herself she muttered, "Wh-what happened? The room, it's a…" _Disaster_, she finished in her head.

Entering the 'fresher carefully, her eyes opened wide with dread as she spotted the overturned drawers, the various toiletries strewn about the floor, and the shattered ceramic vase. Gingerly stepping around the debris, Padmé grabbed a cloth from the linen cabinet and made her way to sink. As she washed her hands and wet the cloth, her eyes spied a pair of tiny scissors not far from the ceramic shards that had once been a vase. Her lips turned down in a worried frown. _Scissors?_ Why had he needed scissors? And what had happened to make Anakin destroy a room like this? A shiver ran down her spine. As much as she loved Anakin, his temper had always frightened her, as sudden as it was intense. She could not imagine what had transpired to make him unleash his fury like this. Hands shaking, she wrung out the excess water and made her way back to the bed.

Anakin was exactly as she had left him, his arm curled across his chest protectively, his head down, the overgrown strands of hair curling over his eyes. Padmé gathered the supplies and lay them out on the bed next to him. She tried her best to act nonchalant, even though her heart was racing in mild panic from the scene in the 'fresher room. Padmé wasn't afraid of Anakin, but she wasn't sure how he would react to her touch, either. According to Luminara, he had flinched at her every touch, refusing any treatment.

"I'm going to remove the patches first, ok?"

Anakin nodded imperceptibly, still not meeting her eyes. Padmé's mouth set in a firm line, her large brown eyes focused in concentration as she gently peeled back the bacta patches and dressings on his chest.

Anakin tried not to flinch as the bandages were removed, his skin prickling from the pull of the adhesives. Curiosity getting the better of him, he turned his head first to look down at his injuries, then up to Padmé's face to watch her work. "So, how does it look? Pretty bad, huh?" he asked apprehensively. Beginning to fidget in impatience at Padmé's somber appraisal, he shrugged and half-joked, "Force-lightning…who knew?"

Anakin's attempt at levity caught Padmé's attention, quirking her eyebrow. "Hold still, Anakin," she admonished, biting her lip slightly as she peered closer at one of the larger burns. "In the future, I suggest you avoid it. It doesn't seem to agree with you."

Anakin snorted and rolled his eyes. "I'll keep that in mind, _thanks_."

Padmé's eyes flicked up to his face for a moment, catching the insolent expression on his face. _There's my Ani_. She laughed silently to herself as she inspected the smaller pinkish scars for any signs of infection; she found no cause for concern. Sitting up, she blew out a slow breath of relief. "Actually, considering the gravity of your wounds, you're healing remarkably well. I only need to replace one or two of these, I think." She pressed the warm cloth to his wounds, cleansing each one and then applying some of the healing balm Luminara had instructed her to use.

Anakin sucked in his breath at a couple of the applications, one drawing a strong curse under his breath. "Padmé, you almost done there? You really should think about sticking with politics, 'cause your nursing skills might just put me back in a coma," he commented through gritted teeth.

Padmé's eyebrows shot up in mock-offense. "Oh, really? I'll have you know I've only lost one other patient. Of course, he was my only patient…" she trailed off sardonically.

"_Nice," _Anakin groaned, leaning back into the pillows. They both shared a brief laugh, a desperately needed laugh.

Sensing the slight shift in Anakin's mood, Padmé took his hand in hers. Tilting her head slightly, she asked softly, "Can you tell me what happened in there, in the 'fresher?"

Anakin stiffened, withdrawing his hand to wrap around himself defensively. His eyes darkened before turning away to focus on some indiscriminate point on the wall.

Not wanting to press, but so worried for him, Padmé returned to her ministrations, keeping her tone conversational and her eyes focused on her job. "Ani, what were the scissors for?"

His inability to work a simple pair of scissors and his subsequent tantrum flashed through his mind. Anakin shifted uncomfortably on the bed, shame and embarrassment washing over him. He inhaled sharply through his nose and continued to gaze at the wall, trying to sound indifferent. "Nothing. It was nothing. Really. I… I was looking for something."

"Did you find it?" she asked carefully, looking up, trying to catch his eyes.

Anakin shrugged. "I guess."

Padmé nodded slightly. "I see." She gave him a small smile, but it wasn't enough to hide the worry that flitted across her face. Lifting her hand, she placed it on Anakin's covered shoulder. "I'm…I'm going to check your arm now, ok? Does it hurt?" she asked, slowly removing the blanket.

Anakin couldn't bring himself to look at Padmé. It was one thing for her to check out a couple of burns, but this was…something else. He was afraid to see her reaction, afraid that she might find him completely repulsive now that he wasn't _whole_. That somehow she would find him to be _less_ than he was, and he'd lose her, too, and she'd leave him, just like Obi-Wan had. Both of them, Obi-Wan and Padmé, were perfect, in body and soul. Anakin had always known he was flawed; now it was only more obvious.

"No," he answered, his voice slightly wavering as he shook his head. "Well, not like you think. Sometimes I _think_ it hurts, but it doesn't, not really."

When Padmé's fingers first made contact, Anakin thought he might throw up. Swallowing thickly, his stomach lurched violently at the thought of someone looking at, much less touching, that disgusting stump that used to be his arm, the arm that helped forge his identity as a Jedi with every swing of his lightsabre. Anakin tried not to flinch as her soft hands gently probed and cleaned the tender new pink skin.

"Anakin, it looks good, no signs of infection," she affirmed, pleased. Pressing the last of the bandage coverings in place, she reached up and ruffled his short curls. "The bacta was good to you, wasn't it?"

"Not good enough," Anakin said gruffly, getting up and walking once again to the double doors where Padmé had found him. He sat down, leaning against the frame, closing his eyes as the breeze blew through his hair.

Uncertain as to what to say, Padmé settled in behind him, trying to ward off the chill by covering them both with the blanket she had grabbed off the bed. "Do you remember how we did this very same thing the night before your podrace on Tatooine? You were cold and I was worried about Naboo and my people. We kept each other warm and safe then, too. We weren't the Queen and The Chosen One. We were just kids. Padmé and Anakin."

Anakin nodded, still not looking at his friend, but relishing the warmth and comfort she provided. "That was a long time ago, but I remember," he said quietly. "Everything seemed so easy, so exciting then. I thought nothing could stop me. I'd win the race, save the Queen, and be a Jedi."

Padmé smiled, nodding silently. "And you did just that, Ani. So many people owe you their lives already; when you are a Jedi Knight you will become a hero to millions in the Republic."

"No I won't, Padmé," he said despondently. "I'm nobody's hero. Just an arrogant fuck-up who washed out of the Order. I'm _nobody_ now." Anakin sat up abruptly, pushing himself away from his friend. He wrapped the blanket awkwardly over his shoulders and stood. As Padmé scrambled to her feet, he walked further out on to the terrace. Sighing, he slumped down on to one of the plush loungers.

Following him to the lounger, Padmé nudged Anakin gently. "Move over, would you? It isn't exactly warm out here," she chided, sliding on to the chair. He reluctantly scooted over, throwing her a look that was anything but welcoming.

Grabbing some of the blanket for herself, she took Anakin's left hand in hers. "Don't say that, Anakin," she said, trying to be soothing, but it was hard to keep the ire from her voice as she continued. "What happened to you wasn't your fault."

_No, it was the great Obi-Wan Kenobi's fault!_

The emotionless timbre of Anakin's voice startled her when he finally spoke.

"You're wrong, Padmé. You-you weren't there. You don't know what I did; it _was_ all my fault."

Padmé didn't understand, Anakin knew. Shewas a close friend – like a sister to him! – but there were things in his life, things about him, that Padmé could never understand. She had no idea what it meant to be a Jedi, or what being a Jedi meant to _him_. He had begun to believe that only one person could _really_ understand him.

Obi-Wan.

_Maybe he never did. If he had, he would _never_ have done that to me. He wouldn't have broken his promise. And he wouldn't have left me. _Anakin hesitated, his feelings of shame, betrayal, and abandonment washing over him yet again.

Padmé squeezed his hand, encouraging him to continue. Anakin closed his eyes for a moment, seeing in his mind's eye each moment of that day on Geonosis.

"As a Padawan, it was my duty to obey and protect my Master. I disregarded all of my training, everything I've ever been taught and told to do, and ran in there thinking that I'd take on Dooku myself and save the day. Be the big hero."

Anakin suddenly pulled his hand out of Padmé's, gesturing into the air a moment before angrily pounding it down on the bed in frustration. "I wanted to show Obi-Wan that I could do it! I wanted him to be _proud_ of me, Padmé. But all I showed him was how much of a failure I am, both as _his_ Padawan, and as a Jedi. It all went so _wrong_!" His voice broke as he turned away from her, too embarrassed to let Padmé see his distress.

Padmé reached up and turned his face towards her, her small hand cupping his cheek. "I know, Ani," she said perceptively, a sad smile touching her lips. "I know how important his approval is to you, but not at the expense of your _life_! I was there, remember? I told Obi-Wan to get help, but he decided otherwise," she said, a harsh edge to her voice.

Anakin shook his head and looked away to the lake. "There wasn't time, Padmé. And I believed we could do it. That _I _could do it." He shrugged, giving her a mirthless laugh. "But look at me now. I won't be saving anyone anymore."

No, Anakin knew, his days of playing hero were over. How many times had he saved his Master's skin on some dangerous mission on a far-flung world? More times than he cared to count. In turn, Obi-Wan had always been there to save Anakin— usually from himself— when his recklessness or emotions got the better of him, which they usually did.

_You failed your Master for the last time, and Obi-Wan will never be there to save you again._

It pained Padmé to hear her sweet Ani, once so full of life, confident and sure of his path, now so lost and dejected. "What do you mean, Ani? Your injuries— Master Unduli told me you're going to make a full recovery." She tentatively touched his arm. "I know it might take some time, and I know _patience_ and _Anakin Skywalker_ have no business being in the same sentence, but— " She cut herself off as Anakin sat up slowly and rose to stand in front of her, the blanket sliding off of him and into her lap.

With a pained voice and a devastated look in his eyes, he asked, "Does this look like it's recovering fully? I don't think I have that kind of time, Padmé, and all the bacta and patience in the galaxy isn't going to give me back my arm. Not _ever_."

"Oh, Ani," Padmé sighed, taking his hand back into hers and gently pulling him down to sit on the lounger. "You _survived_! Do you even realize what a gift that is?" she scolded gently, lacing her fingers in his tightly. "I _saw_ you on Geonosis. I _saw_ what Dooku did to you." Padmé swallowed nervously, pausing briefly while she tried to control the quivering in her voice. "The Healers weren't even sure you'd make it to Naboo at first. Do you know how worried and scared we were?" She gave Anakin a small smile and tilted her head, bringing her other hand up to brush his overgrown hair out of his eyes. "Even though the bacta was working, you wouldn't wake up, and no one had any answers."

Anakin's face was unreadable. Without looking at her, he voiced a question he'd had since he woke, one that Luminara had dodged, and one he'd been too afraid to ask of Obi-Wan. A question that he didn't want the answer to, but he had to ask. He had to know.

"Padmé, have I— have I been expelled from the Order already? Is that why I'm here on Naboo?" he asked tentatively, finally bringing his troubled eyes up to search his friend's. Anakin, and Obi-Wan, for that matter, were regular visitors to the Healers in the Temple, for injuries far less severe than those he seemed to have. They had often joked that a mission couldn't be considered completed until they had entered the Healer's Ward. Anakin couldn't imagine any other reason for not being brought the Temple.

_Only Jedi go to a Healer; you told Luminara that yourself. You're no longer a Jedi, remember?_

Padmé shook her head, her brown curls spilling haphazardly over her shoulders with her vehemence.. "No, Ani, no!" Clearing her throat, she gave Anakin a lopsided smirk. "You're here on Naboo because…well…because _I _wanted you here. I convinced Master Yoda that this would be the best place for you. A Senator does have some pull, after all."

Padmé chewed her lip and looked down at their hands, hers small and lost in Anakin's. "I brought you here to heal, Anakin. To heal and be away from all the pressure and all those that caused this in the first place," she explained, her voice low and edged with steel. She held up her hand, silencing him before he could voice his objection. "Anakin, I know you disagree, but what happened to you _was not your fault_! You are a Padawan, a _student_. You should never have been sent in against a Sith Lord!"

Getting up, Padmé moved about the terrace, agitated, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides. "It was irresponsible and reckless of Obi-Wan, and I wanted you as far away from _him_, and the Jedi, for that matter, as possible." She heaved a great sigh. "I had hoped to keep the Jedi out of your life for as long as possible, Ani. But you wouldn't wake up, and I was called back to the Senate. It was with great reluctance that I contacted the Temple to send a Healer to look into the cause of your prolonged coma."

Anakin blinked a few times as he struggled to comprehend Padmé's words. He hadn't been expelled, but why would the Jedi allow such interference? He watched Padmé pacing, her hand reaching up to absently twirl a few curls about her finger, a nervous habit that rivaled his penchant for toying with his braid.

"Padmé? I­-I don't understand. If I haven't been expelled, then why would you--" he trailed off for a moment, standing to grasp her shoulder and stop her pacing.­ "Why would you do that? It doesn't make any sense! The Jedi, _Obi-Wan_, wouldn't just _let _you­!"

Padmé tried to wriggle out from his hold, but he held her firm. She felt trapped, unable to avoid his deep blue eyes boring into hers for answers. "On Geonosis, I-I forbade Obi-Wan from seeing you, Ani," she suddenly blurted out, the words tumbling forth under his intense scrutiny.

"You did _what_?" he shouted incredulously, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief. He cocked his head, certain that he must have heard wrong.

Although she jumped slightly at his outburst, Padmé raised her chin a bit, undeterred by his anger. "On Geonosis, I forbade Obi-Wan from seeing you," she repeated slowly, deliberately, her conviction defying her smaller stature. "From being anywhere near you, actually."

Anakin's mouth gaped, anger and frustration becoming a toxic mix that coursed through his mind. "Padmé, how could you do that? How could you think that was something _I _wanted? He's my _Master_, Padmé! You don't just go issuing orders to a Jedi Master, even if you _are_ a Senator!" he yelled, furious that his oldest friend had conspired to deny him contact with the man who had been the center of Anakin's world since he was nine years old. How could Padmé not have understood that he would _need _Obi-Wan with him?

Padmé bristled at the slight. "I didn't do it as a _Senator_, Ani; I did it as your _friend_, someone who loves you." She placed her hand over his, freeing his fingers from her shoulder. "_I _wanted to be the one to take care of you. You don't need Obi-Wan, and you don't need the Jedi. He may be your Master, but he's done nothing but hurt you, time and time again. I didn't want him around to hurt you any longer. I hate seeing how he treats you, and hearing how he makes you feel."

Anakin found himself at a loss for words. _But I needed him, Padmé_, he wanted to say, but darker, despondent thoughts crept into his mind. _My Master didn't come with me. He didn't want to be with me. He just _let_ her take me away._ Nodding absently, he let go of Padmé, and turned to walk slowly back inside. He understood now.

_No wonder it was such an easy decision for him to break my shields. It was only his obligation. His last obligation to a failure of a Padawan he didn't want anymore._

He felt the frayed ends of his training bond aching to reach out, to connect with Obi-Wan, to make himself feel secure and complete, but Anakin could not allow himself to lower his formidable shields. He didn't want to feel the rejection when he met with the nothingness of Obi-Wan's shields. Anakin knew it was only a matter of time before the bond was severed completely. By shutting himself off now, he told himself, he would be better prepared for a life that would be lived without that constant comforting presence. It had only been about a day, and he already missed his Master profoundly. Anakin didn't know a life without Obi-Wan in it.

_And I never imagined I would have to._

Padmé had followed him inside and was still speaking, he realized numbly, trying to focus on her words. "I wanted you to be able to recover in peace. Obi-Wan once again proved how little he respects you or thinks of your well-being by coming here against my wishes." She crossed her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes, derisive. "He insisted that he could help you wake up, that only _he _could help you, and according to Luminara, he _did_." She raised an eyebrow. "But I don't understand. What did he do? How did he do it?"

Anakin sat on the edge of his bed, shoulders slumped, staring a hole into the door that separated his room from Obi-Wan's.

Padmé followed his line of sight. She frowned with confusion as her eyes narrowed. "Ani?" she asked carefully.

Anakin rubbed his hand over his eyes and lay back on the pillow, staring at the ceiling. He forced out a breath. "Yes, he did _help_ me. They say I was _lost_, lost in the Force, and that he found me and brought me back. Just what a _Master_ would do for an errant Padawan." He laughed bitterly as his mind recalled how much Obi-Wan's _help_ had cost them. Had cost Anakin.

How could he possibly explain it to her? How could he explain that the Force had sent him to be with his mother and Qui-Gon and that Obi-Wan had made Anakin lose them all over again?

Padmé reached out a hand to Anakin's shoulder, concern and confusion in her voice. "Ani, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. We can just…talk…or not, if you'd rather."

"Maybe... later. I don't know. I'm just, I'm just so…" _Alone. Lost. Confused._

"Tired, Anakin. You're tired. You need to sleep." She started to turn, her hand trailing down his arm. "I'm going to go."

Anakin grabbed her hand to keep her from leaving. "I can't sleep, Padmé. I— I keep having dreams about it, you know? I don't want to, but they keep coming, and I don't know how to make them stop," he said in a small voice Padmé sadly recognized. It was the same voice as the lost and scared little boy she'd found shivering alone on her cruiser ten years ago.

With a small, caring smile she let go of his hand and walked around to the other side of the bed, clicking off the lamp so that the room was illuminated only by Naboo's moons, glowing full and bright over the lake at the late hour. She pulled back the ample covers and climbed into the bed.

"Come here. I won't let the nightmares come if I can help it," she offered, her arms open. Anakin felt the tears welling up in him, remembering all the times Obi-Wan had said much the same thing as he sat at Anakin's bedside. When he was younger, Anakin's nightmares had often woken Obi-Wan. It wasn't so much that the young Padawan had cried out— he didn't want his Master to think he was nothing more than a youngling— but rather it was the raw fear that pulsed over their training bond as Anakin's mind reached out unconsciously for Obi-Wan's soothing mental embrace. His Master had always come, never asking any questions, never making Anakin talk about it if he didn't want to, and had never left Anakin alone to fall asleep. He had stayed. He had always stayed.

_But Obi-Wan is gone now. He won't be here the next time a dream comes._

Exhausted, he accepted Padmé's offer silently by sliding over into her admittedly small arms. He supposed it was a rather comical sight, much like a youngling holding on to a giant stuffed bantha, but he didn't care. Anakin lay on the soft pillow created by the dark curls of Padmé's hair, breathing in the light lavender scent she always wore.

"Sleep, Ani," Padmé whispered, running a hand lightly over his forehead. He closed his eyes, his body relaxing deeply as she held him close.

"No, I don't want to…" he murmured, finally letting sleep take him into its peaceful embrace.

Padmé lay awake for a while, absently brushing her fingers through Anakin's hair while she listened to his deep rhythmic breathing. Her hand stole down his right arm to reach for the edge of the blanket, when her fingers suddenly lost contact with his smooth skin. Confused, she looked over his shoulder.

_Oh_.

A tear escaped from the corner of her eye; she was surprised she hadn't already cried an ocean.

The boy she cradled in her arms was no longer a boy. What innocence he'd still had at 19 had been burned out of him by expectations, trials, and circumstances that had fallen on him too hard, too close together.

Over the years of their friendship, she had seen Anakin lose that sweet innocence he'd had when they had first met. Piece by piece he lost it; when he left his mother in slavery, when Master Jinn was killed, and every year of his apprenticeship with Obi-Wan Kenobi. It was in the way he smiled, the way he talked, or rather, the increasing lack of both. Gone were the days of talking about _wizard_ starfighters and _awesome_ lightsabre techniques. She'd never had an appreciation for either, but oh, to hear Anakin laugh and go on about his latest starfighter was something she wished she could hear now. Not the broken despair. Not the self-blame.

She didn't think he had anything left to lose after Tatooine, after finding his mother only to have her die in his arms. She had cried that day, too, not only for Shmi, but for Anakin, who shouldered the responsibility of the blame all himself.

But laying here, holding an emotionally and physically battered boy— no, young man— she saw clearly that she had been mistaken.

The death of his mother had only been the beginning of Anakin's trials.

Padmé remembered the look of pride in Anakin's eyes when Obi-Wan had insisted they didn't need any help, that there wasn't time. "_Anakin and I can handle this!"_ he'd so boldly stated. But Padmé had known, had known in her heart of hearts, that they wouldn't be enough. For all intents and purposes, the Jedi had invaded Geonosis; there was no reason Obi-Wan couldn't have called for reinforcements to capture Dooku. But _no_. Obi-Wan had been adamant, and Anakin so eager to make his Master proud.

Recalling those events made Padmé nearly shake with a familiar, frustrated anger. She and Obi-Wan had always been amiable towards each other over the years, but there was also this unspoken animosity that hovered just under the surface when it came to Anakin. She assumed he found her to be an irritating distraction in Anakin's training; it didn't help that he had, in her opinion, a nearly pathological dislike for politicians.

To Padmé, Obi-Wan was an irritatingly conservative and arrogant man who relished in the power and control he had over his Padawan. Admittedly, most of what she knew about the Jedi Master she'd heard from Anakin— that Obi-Wan was overly critical, judgmental, and completely lacking in any kind of the spontaneity or emotion that defined Anakin. Anakin wanted to be a Jedi, a Jedi _just like Obi-Wan_, more than anything. Padmé had tried to understand, but in the end she never did. How could he want to be something that was smothering everything that made him Anakin Skywalker? Anakin wasn't meant to be controlled; he was too much of a free spirit, born to fly far and fast.

Which was _precisely_ why Obi-Wan should have known better, and why Padmé held him responsible for what had happened on Geonosis. He should have known how much Anakin was looking for affirmation, how much he had been trying to win a kind word, a pat on the back, even a smile. He should have known that Anakin would do _anything_ to receive that kind of acknowledgement, no matter the price.

_Ani, the price was too high,_ she thought sadly, drawing him closer as she, too, drifted off under the pale moonlight.

---

_The sun was hot on his face, the light bright in his eyes. A familiar cool and soothing breeze blew over the water, caressing his skin as he brought his hands up to shield his eyes._

_He was back at the lake._

"_Ani, time for lunch!" Turning, he saw his mother waving him over to blanket set up by the edge of the lake._

"_Eat, Ani. You'll need your strength," she urged him, a kind smile on her face._

"_Why?" he questioned. "What's happening?" He felt as though he should already know the answer._

"_Anakin, there's so much for you still to do, so many who still need you." Leaning over, she pulled him into a hug. "He will always need you, Ani. As you will need him. Do not doubt that," she whispered in his ear._

_He pulled back sharply. "Mom? Who? Who needs me?" His question mocked him, echoing "Who? Who? Who?" but never providing an answer. _

_His mother only gave him a cryptic smile. "Mom, who needs me?" he asked desperately. She opened her mouth as if to answer._

_Suddenly, the brightness that had blinded him morphed into a darkness that surrounded them both. Loud, animalistic shouts permeated the air as dozens of rag-wrapped arms seized his mother, pulling her slowly away from him._

"_Mom! Mom! Don't go! I can save you, I can! I can save you!" he yelled, trying desperately to reach for her, to brandish his lightsabre and cut away the arms that bound his mother. He reached down for his weapon, only to find a smoking, charred stump, his forearm lying at his feet, blade still ignited and clasped in his hand._

_Clutching at his right bicep, he cried "No! No! I have to save my mother! I have to! She needs me! I can't fail her again!"_

"_Ani…" his mother called to him, her face beaten and bruised, her lips swollen and bloody._

_The fear tasted warm and metallic, like blood, in his mouth as he looked from his mother to his severed arm at his feet. "I don't know what to do!" he cried out. "Help me! I can't do this!"_

"_Ani, you must let me go…"_

"_No Mom, I won't leave you. I have to save you…" _

_The darkness began to claim his mother, the arms that held her pulled tighter, dragging her out of his reach. _

_Anakin felt himself stumble, then fall. He felt the void swallow him, pulling him down and out of sight of his mother. _

_He heard her scream._

_Or was it him?_

"_Mom! Mom! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" he cried over and over…_

---

"_I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"_

Padmé jerked awake, instantly aware. Anakin still lay in her arms, but his body shook in spasms as his left arm clung to her tightly.

"Ani, Ani, it's ok, it's ok," she said soothingly, patting his arm, trying to coax him to consciousness.

He suddenly bolted upright in the bed, his hair wet and matted against his forehead, his breaths coming in frantic pants.

Padmé sat up behind him, her hand on his shoulder. "Ani, are you ok?" she inquired with a worry in her voice.

Anakin closed his eyes tightly, his body still shaking from the effects of the dream.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she offered.

"No," he said dully, blinking hard and taking a deep breath. "It was just a dream, Padmé." _A nightmare. A horrible nightmare._ "It doesn't mean anything at all."

She sighed loudly. "Ani, don't do that. Don't try to be brave for me— I've known you for too long. You don't have to shut it all up in you like those emotionless, unfeeling Jedi you aspire to be. Please, please let me help you. Talk to me," she implored, her face creased with worry.

He looked up then, but focused on a point somewhere out the door. The sun was beginning to rise on Naboo. A new day.

A new nightmare.

"I-I dreamt about my mother," Anakin shared softly. "I saw her, just like she was when I was in the Force with her."

Padmé gave him a confused look. "In the Force? Do you mean your coma?"

Anakin indicated otherwise. "Master Luminara told me that I wasn't really in a coma. I guess, I guess the Force took me for a while. Padmé, I— I didn't want to come back," he admitted shamefully.

"Ani, why not? Because of your mother?"

He nodded. "She was there, Padmé, she was there with me! I could talk to her and hug her and feel her. Qui-Gon was there, too." He smiled sadly, sounding forlorn. "I've missed them so much. I didn't want to lose them again."

"So in your dream, you saw her again? Can you tell me what happened? Did she speak to you?" Padmé's eyes shone with empathy.

"I was with her, we were eating lunch, and she told me, Padmé, she told me I had to come back, that I had so much to do, that someone _needed_ me. But before she could tell me anything, the Tuskens came and pulled her away into darkness. I tried to reach her, but I couldn't, I wasn't fast enough. I looked down and there was my arm, my _sabre arm_, Padmé, just lying by my feet. And I couldn't move. I couldn't do anything to save her!" He doubled over, rocking slightly as he hugged his remaining arm close. "It was just like Tatooine all over again. I was too late. I couldn't save her! I couldn't save her!" he sobbed, the pain of losing his mother washing over him fresh, re-opening the still-tender wounds in his heart.

"Oh, Ani, I'm so sorry," she whispered sadly. Padmé stroked the back of his head, her fingers moving tenderly over his scalp to comfort him, when she felt his Padawan braid catch on her fingers. Reaching over, she slowly ran it through her fingers.

Anakin sat up, swiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. "Don't." The word was quiet and yet full of icy emotion. He felt Padmé's hand freeze, her eyes looking to his for answers he wasn't sure he was ready to give.

"Ani?" she asked tentatively, letting go of the long plait.

He reached up and yanked angrily on his braid. "You asked me before about the scissors? What I was doing with them? I was trying to cut this damn thing off!"

Padmé's eyes opened wide in alarm. "But Ani, no! Why? I know how proud you are of your braid. I remember how you showed it off, you were so thrilled to be a Padawan. I know what that braid means to you; it is as much a part of you being a Jedi as your lightsabre is."

He snorted angrily, his brows furrowing together. "Which I can't use anymore. Don't you see, Padmé? I was supposed to fulfill the prophecy, be _The Chosen One_, but Qui-Gon was wrong. Forget destroying the Sith and bringing balance to the Force— I couldn't even save my own mother!"

Padmé gently captured his face in her hands, trying to calm him. "Ani, what happened to your mother was a terrible tragedy, but you did everything you could to save her. _You_ found her when no one else could. I don't care about any ancient prophecy or what the Jedi Council believes you are or aren't. You are _Anakin Skywalker_, and no matter how much you believe it otherwise, you will always be important." She took his hand and held it over her heart. "To me."

Anakin dipped his chin to his chest and started to cry inconsolably, his shoulders heaving as the tears coursed down his face. Instead of finding solace in her words, Anakin could only think of all that he had lost. His mother, his life-long dreams, and _Obi-Wan_. His Master, his best friend, and the only one who could ever know how it felt to be a Jedi; what it _meant_ to be a Jedi. Padmé was mistaken. He wasn't important. Not in the way that mattered most to him, not to the person that mattered the most to him.

Anakin's words flowed out in a torrent of anguished sobs. "Padmé, you don't _understand!_" he cried, choking on his tears. "I'll never be a Jedi, not the one I was _supposed_ to be, not like _this!_" he shrieked, gesturing to his arm, sickened again by what he saw, what he lacked. "Not after what I did, after what happened!"

"Ani, that's not true! Luminara told me that you have options, that you can— "

Gulping for air, Anakin's outburst suddenly quieted. His teary blue eyes flashed at her with a combination of deep pain and stubborn pride, reminding her so much of that little boy in Watto's shop, the one who angrily told her he was more than a slave, he was a _person_, a person with a name. "I will _not _be some pitied Padawan the Council keeps around as some kind of charity case. I will leave the Jedi before that happens," he said defiantly, roughly swiping at the tears on his cheeks.

Padmé looked dismayed. "Ani, surely you don't mean that? You've wanted to be a Jedi your whole life, as long as I've known you. I know how much you love— "

Anakin gave a quick shake to his head, briefly closing his eyes. "Padmé, there's no life for me there, not like this," he told her in quiet resignation. "I understand that now. I couldn't even manage to use a stupid scissors, a youngling's tool, with my remaining hand. How in the Force am I supposed to fight and protect the Republic? Or protect my Master?" he trailed off bitterly, his face scowling. "I failed miserably doing that with _two_ hands. He would be a fool to trust me ever again."

"Obi-Wan trusts you with his _life_, Anakin! I know how much you'd miss him, and he would miss— "

"No, no he wouldn't. He's…Obi-Wan's already left me behind," he said with a depth of sadness Padmé had never heard before, as though Anakin had truly lost a part of himself. "I don't know what to do. I'm so alone," he whispered, his shoulders shaking with quiet sobs.

She brought her hands up to cup his cheeks, looking into his infinitely sad and tired eyes. "Listen to me. You are _not _alone. If this is what you want, if you want to leave the Jedi, _then do it_. Come stay here with me on Naboo," she entreated, her eyes sparkling as the idea took hold in her mind. "You could act as my security consultant, be a starfighter instructor, or anything else you want to do. I can help you find your _purpose_, Anakin, a life beyond the Jedi, if that's what you truly want. But most of all, I want you to be _happy_. Ani, you'll always have a place here with me."

Anakin sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve, trying to smile in gratitude at Padmé's generous offer. Instead, the last of his defenses dissolved, and he was completely overcome by emotions he could no longer control. His face crumpling, Anakin let out a quiet wail as he flung himself into Padmé's arms, burying his face in her neck.


End file.
